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COLUMBIA, Mo. (AP) —
The president of the University of Missouri system resigned Monday with the football team and others on campus in open revolt over what they saw as his indifference to racial tensions at the school.
President Tim Wolfe, a former business executive with no previous experience in academic leadership, took "full responsibility for the frustration" students expressed and said their complaints were "clear" and "real."
For months, black student groups had complained that Wolfe was unresponsive to racial slurs and other slights on the overwhelmingly white flagship campus of the state's four-college system. The complaints came to a head two days ago, when at least 30 black football players announced that they would not play until the president was gone. One student went on a weeklong hunger strike.
Wolfe's announcement came at the start of what had been expected to be a lengthy closed-door meeting of the school's governing board.
"This is not the way change comes about," he said, alluding to recent protests, in a halting statement that was simultaneously apologetic, clumsy and defiant. "We stopped listening to each other."
He urged students, faculty and staff to use the resignation "to heal and start talking again to make the changes necessary."
A poor audio feed for the one board member who was attending the meeting via conference call left Wolfe standing awkwardly at the podium for nearly three minutes after reading only one sentence.
In response to the race complaints, Wolfe had taken little action and made few public statements. As students leveled more grievances this fall, he was increasingly seen as aloof, out of touch and insensitive to their concerns. He soon became the protesters' main target.
In a statement issued Sunday, Wolfe acknowledged that "change is needed" and said the university was working to draw up a plan by April to promote diversity and tolerance. But by the end of that day, a campus sit-in had grown in size, graduate student groups planned walkouts and politicians began to weigh in.
After the resignation announcement, students and teachers in Columbia hugged and chanted.
Sophomore Katelyn Brown said she wasn't necessarily aware of chronic racism at the school, but she applauded the efforts of black students groups.
"I personally don't see it a lot, but I'm a middle-class white girl," she said. "I stand with the people experiencing this." She credited social media with propelling the protests, saying it "gives people a platform to unite."
Head football coach Gary Pinkel expressed solidarity with players on Twitter, posting a picture of the team and coaches locking arms. The tweet said: "The Mizzou Family stands as one. We are united. We are behind our players."
Pinkel and athletic director Mack Rhoades linked the return of the football players to the end of a hunger strike by a black graduate student named Jonathan Butler, who stopped eating Nov. 2 and vowed not to eat until Wolfe was gone.
After Wolfe's announcement, Butler said in a tweet that his strike was over. He appeared weak and unsteady as two people helped him into a sea of celebrants on campus. Many broke into dance at seeing him.
Football practice was to resume Tuesday ahead of Saturday's game against Brigham Young University at Arrowhead Stadium, the home of the NFL's Kansas City Chiefs.
The protests began after the student government president, who is black, said in September that people in a passing pickup truck shouted racial slurs at him. In early October, members of a black student organization said slurs were hurled at them by an apparently drunken white student.
Frustrations flared again during a homecoming parade, when black protesters blocked Wolfe's car, and he did not get out and talk to them. They were removed by police.
Also, a swastika drawn in feces was found recently in a dormitory bathroom.
The university did take some steps to ease tensions. At the request of Columbia campus Chancellor R. Bowen Loftin, the university announced plans to offer diversity training to all new students, faculty and staff starting in January. On Friday, the chancellor issued an open letter decrying racism after the swastika was found.
Many of the protests have been led by an organization called Concerned Student 1950, which gets its name from the year the university accepted its first black student. Group members besieged Wolfe's car at the parade, and they have been conducting a sit-in on a campus plaza since last Monday.
Also joining in the protest effort were two graduate student groups that called for walkouts Monday and Tuesday and the student government at the Columbia campus, the Missouri Students Association.
On Sunday, the association said in a letter to the system's governing body that there had been "an increase in tension and inequality with no systemic support" since last year's fatal shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, which is about 120 miles east of Columbia.
Brown, an unarmed black 18-year-old, was shot and killed by a white police officer during a struggle, and his death helped spawn the "Black Lives Matter" movement rebuking police treatment of minorities.
The association said Wolfe headed a university leadership that "undeniably failed us and the students that we represent."
"He has not only enabled a culture of racism since the start of his tenure in 2012, but blatantly ignored and disrespected the concerns of students," the group wrote.
The Concerned Student group demanded, among other things, that Wolfe "acknowledge his white male privilege" and that the school adopt a mandatory racial-awareness program and hire more black faculty and staff.
The school's undergraduate population is 79 percent white and 8 percent black. The state is about 83 percent white and nearly 12 percent black.
Wolfe, 57, is a former software executive and Missouri business school graduate whose father taught at the university. He was hired as president in 2011, succeeding another former executive with no experience in academia.
DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) —
Jeb Bush has a plan for the Republican presidential debate in Wisconsin on Tuesday night: Don't treat it like, well, a debate.
While he acknowledges he's "gotta get better" on the debate stage, he says he's spending less time rehearsing and sees the prime-time forum as more of a moderated conversation than a real debate.
The once-presumed front-runner, now struggling in the race, remains conflicted about the purpose of the debate series but says he's taking advice while trying to stay true to his serious self.
"Whatever you call it, it's not a debate," Bush told reporters in New Hampshire recently. "It's a chance to be able to say what you think. And I'm going to take advantage of that."
Bush is looking to recover during the debate in Milwaukee from what he, supporters and donors agree was a poor performance in Boulder, Colorado, on Oct. 28, when he hoped to break out with a show of aggressiveness but ended up looking awkward in a tangle with a nimbler rival, Marco Rubio.
After Bush made sharp campaign spending cuts, his allies had been closely watching the Colorado debate for signs that the former Florida governor was ready to make his mark after having little to show in the early voting states after four months of campaigning.
Instead, they saw Bush take an early and obviously rehearsed swipe at the well-prepared Rubio about his Senate voting record, then fade from view for much of the remaining debate.
Bush and aides quickly huddled by phone with donors and supporters afterward to try to ease nerves. Three days later, Bush stood in a crowd of Iowa supporters and told nearby reporters, "I have enough humility to know I've got to get better."
The son and brother of presidents says he's trying to unlearn his decades-old understanding of what debates should be, "where you're supposed to answer the question," and instead bend to the unwritten rule: "Be myself by saying what's on my mind."
While Bush sounds liberated by that way of thinking, it also seems to frustrate him.
He's a policy-driven, self-described introvert who rejects that idea that debates need to be a form of political reality TV, even with the actual reality-TV star, Donald Trump, and other outsized personalities on the stage. "I don't accept that premise," he said sternly. "We're electing a president of the United States."
Still, he is now making the most of the advice he gets "from an army of people," he says, holding up his smartphone.
Michigan Attorney General Bill Schuette, Bush's campaign chairman in the state, recently called him to talk about the debate. He joked that Bush is not the flashiest guy on the stage.
Schuette said he urged Bush to "let Jeb be Jeb, and let the chips fall where they may."
Bush says the endless stream of suggestions takes getting used to.
"Someone didn't like the tie I wore last time, said it looked like I was going to a funeral," he said flatly.
Bush, at 6-feet, 4-inches, is taller than almost everyone in his campaign audiences, and has a tendency to hunch when gesturing with his arms.
He's even at times reminded himself aloud during campaign events to stand up straight.
"But I now have taken this on as a personal challenge — I turn something into a positive," he said. "The positive is: People are giving me advice. They must care about me. They must want me to win. Hey, I like that. That's nice. Keep it coming."
However, Bush's contempt for the "American Idol" debate concept is never far away.
"Just tell me which tie to wear, make sure the knot's right, and leave me alone," Bush said wryly. "I'm getting a haircut.... That's huge."
SAN DIEGO (AP) —
Customs and Border Protection staff concluded after an internal review that agents and officers shouldn't be required to wear body cameras, positioning the nation's largest law enforcement agency as a counterweight to a growing number of police forces that use them to promote public trust and accountability.
The yearlong review cited cost and a host of other reasons to hold off, according to two people familiar with the findings who spoke on condition of anonymity because the findings have not been made public. It found operating cameras may distract agents while they're performing their jobs, may hurt employee morale, and may be unsuited to the hot, dusty conditions in which Border Patrol agents often work.
The findings, in an August draft report, are subject to approval by Commissioner R. Gil Kerlikowske, who last year announced plans to test cameras at the agency that employs roughly 60,000 people.
The staff report doesn't rule out body cameras but questions their effectiveness and calls for more analysis before they are widely distributed.
Jenny Burke, a spokeswoman for Customs and Border Protection, had no immediate comment Friday.
From the start, Kerlikowske was noncommittal on whether to introduce cameras to the roughly 21,000 Border Patrol agents who watch thousands of miles of borders with Mexico and Canada, and to the roughly 24,000 Customs and Border Protection officers who manage official ports of entry.
"Putting these in place, as you know, is not only complicated, it's also expensive," the former Seattle police chief said at a news conference last year. "We want to make sure we do this right."
The use of police body cameras is still in its infancy, with no count for how many of the 18,000 state and local departments have turned to them. But dozens of agencies across the country are testing the cameras after unrest in Ferguson, Missouri, unleashed criticism of police tactics, and many departments have plans to roll them out more broadly.
President Barack Obama supports using police body cameras, and his administration has pledged millions of dollars to local departments.
Customs and Border Protection faces unique challenges. The Southern Border Communities Coalition, a group that has strongly criticized the agency over use of force, said agents and officers have killed 40 people since January 2010. The agency commissioned a 2013 report by the Police Executive Research Forum, a nonprofit group of law enforcement experts, that was highly critical of its policies and tactics.
During the last three months of 2014, Customs and Border Protection tested cameras in simulated environments including the Border Patrol training academy in Artesia, New Mexico. From January to May, it expanded testing to 90 agents and officers who volunteered across the country to use the cameras on the jobs.
Widespread deployment hinged on union approval, which was always a question mark. The National Border Patrol Council, for one, expressed concerns that supervisors might use the videos to retaliate against agents they wanted to discipline or force from their jobs.