No. 1 seed Coco Gauff crashes out of National Bank Open

LAS VEGAS (AP) — Crystal chandeliers that once glimmered above a swanky lounge, bright blue costume feathers that cloaked shimmying showgirls, and fake palm trees that evoked a desert oasis are just some the artifacts making their way from the latest latest casino graveyards of Las Vegas into Sin City history.

The kitsch comes from the Tropicana, which was demolished in a spectacular implosion Oct. 9 to make room for a new baseball stadium; and from The Mirage, the Strip’s first megaresort, which dealt its last cards in July and is set to reopen as a new casino nearly 40 years after it originally debuted.

As the neon lights dimmed and the final chips were cashed in, a different kind of spectacle unfolded behind the casino doors. Millions of items big and small were meticulously sorted and sold, donated and discarded.

“You take this hotel-casino and you turn it upside down, shake everything out of it until it’s empty,” said Frank Long, whose family business, International Content Liquidations, led the effort to unload the Tropicana’s merchandise before its implosion.

Long, 70, a third-generation auctioneer, likes to say he’s in the business of “going, going, gone.” He jokes that his Ohio home is “decorated in early hotel,” having helped clear out dozens of them as well as casinos across the country. In Las Vegas, that includes the Dunes, Aladdin and Landmark.

“Vegas buyers are special,” Long said. “This is their community, and they want a piece of it.”

Trolling for a piece of history

On a hot day in June, two months after the Tropicana shut its doors, Long welcomed buyers onto the casino floor.

The whirring slot machines were long gone, transferred to other casinos. In their place sat an odd collection of things: desks and chairs, rattan night stands, table lamps, pillows and sofas. Piled high in what was once the high-limit gambling room were mattresses and box springs. Small crystal chandeliers going for $1,000 hung suspended from old luggage carts.

“Fill up your entire truck for 100 bucks,” Long told shoppers, grinning.

Buyers of all ages filled wagons and luggage carts with arm chairs priced at $25, mirrors at $6, floor lamps at $28. Behind red velvet ropes where guests used to check in, customers waiting to pay stood in line with 43-inch flatscreen televisions. One man hugged a mattress and box spring, trying to keep them from toppling over.

In the Tropicana’s vast conference hall, piles of large vintage spotlights labeled “FOLIES” sat in waist-high bins marked for donation. They were off-limits to buyers, destined for the Las Vegas Showgirl Museum.

The Tropicana was home to the city’s longest-running show, “Folies Bergere,” a topless revue imported from Paris. Its nearly 50-year run helped make the feathered showgirl one of the most recognizable Las Vegas icons.

Elvis’ image among the forgotten treasures

One of Long’s favorite parts about the job is sifting through forgotten corners of casinos.

Inside the Tropicana, his team rescued black-and-white photographs of stars who wined, dined and headlined there. His favorite was a candid photo of Elvis Presley found in an unused office.

In its heyday, the casino played host to A-list stars including Elizabeth Taylor and Debbie Reynolds, Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr.

Long said his people have fun with the job, too. The tedium of collecting several thousand pillows from the Tropicana’s two hotel towers turned into “the world’s biggest pillow fight.”

When Sarah Quigley learned the Tropicana was closing, she knew she needed to act fast if she wanted some of the casino’s historical records for the Special Collections and Archives at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.

Quigley, director of the special collections, wasn’t the first to call.

But after a meeting with the Tropicana’s management team, UNLV’s special collections acquired five boxes of records from 1956 to 2024, including vintage 1970s ads for the Tropicana’s showroom, old restaurant menus, architectural blueprints and original film reels of the dancing “Folies” showgirls rehearsing in the mid-1970s.

Salvaging the neon Vegas is famed for

The Neon Museum, which rescues iconic Las Vegas signs, got the Tropicana’s red one and The Mirage’s original archway that welcomed guests for 35 years. In a herculean effort, the 30-foot sign was placed on a flatbed truck in August. A chunk of the Strip closed so the piece could be slowly driven to its new home at the museum.

The Mirage opened with a Polynesian theme in 1989, spurring a building boom on the Strip that stretched through the 1990s. Its volcano fountain was one of the first sidewalk attractions, and tourists flocked to the casino to see Cirque du Soleil set to The Beatles or Siegfried and Roy taming white tigers.

In just a few years, the Strip’s skyline will look different. The Mirage will become the Hard Rock Las Vegas in 2027, with a hotel tower shaped like a guitar. The following year, the new baseball stadium is expected to open on the former site of the Tropicana.

While the last of the Tropicana’s buildings came tumbling down in 22 seconds, pieces of the Las Vegas landmark have found a new life in nearby museums, curated collections and homes.

“There’s history here,” said Aaron Berger, executive director of the Neon Museum. “You just have to look past the glitter to find it.”

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Associated Press video journalist Ty O’Neil in Las Vegas contributed to this report.

AUSTIN, Texas (AP) — When Robert Roberson’s execution was abruptly halted in Texas, it was due to a subpoena ordering him to testify over a legal backstop that both Republicans and Democrats say should had saved him long ago: Texas’ junk science law.

The 2013 law allows a person convicted of a crime to seek relief if the evidence used against them is no longer credible. At the time, it was hailed by the Legislature as a uniquely future-proof solution to wrongful convictions based on faulty science. But Roberson’s supporters say his case points to faults in the judicial system where the law has been weakened by deliberate misinterpretation from the state’s highest criminal court.

On Monday, Roberson is scheduled to testify to members of a state House committee, four days after he had been scheduled to die by lethal injection.

“He’s seen how the prosecution has really stood in the way of bringing new science forward,” Democratic state Rep. John Bucy told The Associated Press. “I think his first hand account will be helpful for that.”

Roberson, 57, was convicted of murder the 2002 death of his 2-year-old daughter, Nikki Curtis, in Palestine, Texas. Prosecutors alleged that he violently shook his daughter back and forth, causing fatal head trauma. A bipartisan group of lawmakers, medical experts and the former lead prosecutor on the case have thrown their support behind Roberson, stating that his conviction is based on flawed science.

In his clemency petition to Republican Gov. Greg Abbott, several medical professionals wrote that Roberson’s conviction is based on outdated scientific evidence and that Curtis likely died from complications with severe pneumonia.

Shaken baby syndrome — now referred to as abusive head trauma — was a popular misdiagnosis at the time that has largely been debunked, according to Roberson’s attorneys.

Courts have rejected numerous attempts by his attorneys to hear new evidence in the case, and Texas’ parole board voted to not recommend Roberson clemency, a necessary step for Abbott to stay the execution. The governor has not commented on Roberson’s case.

No one facing execution has had their sentence overturned since the junk science law was enacted in 2013, according to a report by civil rights group Texas Defender Service.

In the last 10 years, 74 applications have been filed and ruled on under the junk science law. A third of applications were submitted by people facing the death penalty. All of them were unsuccessful.

Of the applications that led to relief, nearly three-quarters were for convictions related to DNA evidence despite making up less than half of all applications.

Legal experts suggest the reason for this is the Texas Criminal Court of Appeals misinterpreting the law and assessing applicants based on their innocence rather than the evidence.

“In practice, the CCA is applying a much higher standard than what the legislators wrote,” said Burke Butler, executive director for Texas Defender Service. “It (proving innocence) is a virtually impossible bar for anyone to meet,” she said, adding that DNA claims are likely more successful because the court can point to another perpetrator.

A House committee is set to discuss how the junk science law has failed to work as intended. In their subpoena to block the court’s execution warrant, lawmakers argued that Roberson’s testimony is vital to understanding its ineffectiveness.

Prosecutors have stated that the evidence in Roberson’s case has not changed significantly since his conviction. The Anderson County District Attorney Office did not respond to phone calls and voice messages Friday from The Associated Press.

Texas’ junk science law was the first of its kind in 2013 and a model for other states across the country, according to legal experts. California, Connecticut, Michigan, Nevada and Wyoming have similar “junk science” statutes, but it has not been studied how successful they are at overturning death penalty convictions.

There are many instances when prosecutors rely on inconsistent or faulty evidence during trial, and junk science laws can be a necessary tool to combat wrongful convictions, according to University of Oklahoma law professor Jim Hilbert.

“The Roberson case is a classic case that the Texas law was meant to address,” Hilbert, who has written about discredited science used in criminal trials, said.

“It has had a positive impact, but in such a limited way. There is so much more it can do.”

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Lathan is a corps member for the Associated Press/Report for America Statehouse News Initiative. Report for America is a nonprofit national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on undercovered issues.

NEW YORK (AP) — To some New Yorkers, he’s the white vigilante who choked an innocent Black man to death on the subway. To others, he’s the U.S. Marine Corps veteran whose attempt to subdue a mentally ill man ended in tragedy.

A Manhattan jury will soon have its say on Daniel Penny, who is charged with manslaughter for placing Jordan Neely in a fatal chokehold on May 1, 2023. Jury selection in Penny’s trial begins Monday.

The court proceedings, which are expected to last six weeks, will shed light on a killing that was a flashpoint in the nation’s debate over racial injustice and crime.

Neely’s death also divided a city grappling with what to do about people experiencing mental health crises in a transit system where some subway straphangers still don’t feel safe, despite a drop in violent crime rates.

“There is simply no reason for Jordan Neeley to be dead today,” David Giffen, executive director of the Coalition for the Homeless, told The Associated Press on Wednesday. “So many systems failed Jordan and contributed to his death.”

Penny, 25, has been free on a $100,000 bond. He faces up to 15 years in prison if convicted of second-degree manslaughter and up to four years if convicted of criminally negligent homicide.

Witnesses said Neely — a 30-year-old former Michael Jackson street impersonator struggling with drug addiction, mental illness and homelessness — had been shouting, throwing things and acting erratically on a subway train in Manhattan when Penny approached him.

With the help of two other passengers, Penny pinned Neely to the ground and placed him in a chokehold for more than three minutes until Neely’s body went limp and he lost consciousness. The medical examiner’s office ruled the death a homicide caused by compression of the neck.

The encounter sparked nearly two weeks of protests before Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg’s office brought an indictment.

Meanwhile, millions of dollars in donations poured in from across the country to help Penny cover his legal costs, including from prominent conservative personalities and Republican candidates for president.

Penny’s lawyers have argued that the Long Island native didn’t intend to kill Neely, just to hold him down long enough for police to arrive, as he was concerned for the safety of others.

“If Danny is convicted, his conviction will have a chilling effect on every New Yorker’s right and duty to stand up for each other,” Penny’s lawyer Steven Raiser said Wednesday. “Our sincerest hope is that New Yorkers selected for this jury will stand up for Danny just like Danny stood up for them back on that train over a year ago today.”

Penny, who served four years in the Marines before being discharged in 2021, claimed that Neely shouted “I’m gonna’ kill you” and that he was “ready to die” or go to jail for life.

But Neely’s family and supporters have said he was simply crying out for help. They said his mental health deteriorated after his mother’s body was found stuffed in a suitcase in the Bronx and he testified at her boyfriend’s murder trial.

Some witnesses, including a freelance journalist who captured video of some of the altercation, also said Neely had been acting aggressively and frightening people but hadn’t attacked anyone before Penny pulled him to the floor.

Neely’s surviving family members say they’ve been anticipating this moment and intend to attend the trial.

“I just want to look into his face and wonder why he would do something like that,” said Mildred Mahazu, Neely’s 85-year-old aunt and primary caretaker after his mother died. “Jordan was somebody’s child. He was loved by his family.”

Neely’s uncle, Christopher Neely, agreed.

“Justice for Jordan is all we think about,” the 45-year-old Manhattan resident said. “We can’t let Jordan’s name be added to the list of Black people killed by a racist white person with no justice.”

Prosecutors argued in court filings that Penny’s actions were unwarranted, reckless and negligent, even if he didn’t have the intention to kill.

They’ve focused on recorded statements Penny made to police in which he describes Neely as a “crackhead,” touts his armed forces experience and demonstrates to officers the submission technique he used.

“I just put him out. I just put him in a chokehold,” Penny said, according to a transcript of the recordings included in court filings. “He was threatening everybody.”

“I’m not trying to kill the guy,” Penny said at another point to police. “I’m just trying to deescalate the situation.”

Bragg’s office declined to comment beyond what its said in court filings. Prosecutors, in pretrial hearings, sought to exclude evidence about Neely’s medical and psychological history, including his record of substance abuse. The judge hadn’t released his ruling on that request as of Friday.

Raiser said Penny’s defense will offer up other potential causes for Neely’s death, including high levels of the synthetic cannabinoid known as K2 that were identified in toxicology reports.

They’ll also argue that video shared widely on social media proves Penny was not applying pressure consistently enough to render Neely unconscious, much less kill him, he said.

“If he was applying that kind of pressure, Mr. Neely would have been rendered unconscious long before the video, circulating online, ever started,” Raiser said.

In January, Penny’s lawyers lost their bid to have the case dismissed outright. Then earlier this month, Judge Maxwell Wiley rejected their request to prevent jurors from hearing Penny’s statements to police, as well as body camera footage from officers who initially responded.

Penny’s attorneys argued that police should have read Penny his Miranda rights sooner and that his questioning at the police station amounted to an illegal arrest.

But Wiley, in a written ruling, determined that Penny’s statements were admissible. The judge said Penny had waived his rights against self-incrimination in the interrogation room and willingly spoke to officers without a lawyer present.

As for Christopher Neely, he hopes what’s not lost in the trial is the memory of his late nephew.

“I want people to remember his strengths and his conquests to greatness and his conquering of fears,” he wrote. “I want people to remember that mental health is a serious issue and that it needs tenderness, not spontaneous rage. Most importantly, I want people to know that Jordan Neely was supremely loved and still is.”

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Follow Philip Marcelo at twitter.com/philmarcelo.