Phoenix is planning several new investments in housing affordability and homeless services in the year ahead. A new federal proposal for sharing the Colorado River would take a new approach to managing water, forcing states to check in with each other every two years. Local officials in southern Arizona are voicing concerns about Copper World, a controversial mine proposed just south of the Tucson metro. Plus the latest education, Fronteras Desk, politics, business, and metro Phoenix news.
Transcript
TIARA VIAN: This is KJZZ, your news and information station in Phoenix and across Arizona. I'm Tiara Vian, and here are this week's stories you don't want to miss.
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TIARA VIAN: This is the podcast that's designed to catch you up on some highlights from around the region. Thanks for listening. Here are a few of the stories for the week of May 18th, 2026.
TIARA VIAN: Phoenix is planning several new investments in housing affordability and homeless services in the year ahead. Katherine Davis Young reports.
KATHERINE DAVIS-YOUNG: In a budget approved Tuesday, the Phoenix City Council added $6.6 million to its Housing Trust Fund, nearly doubling the fund's size. Councilwoman Ann O'Brien says the fund allows the city to waive fees and speed up approval for affordable housing projects.
ANN O’BRIEN: We have no time to waste. Every streamlined permit, every waived fee, and every pre-approved plan is a family that gets housed faster.
KATHERINE DAVIS-YOUNG: The budget also sets aside more than $18 million to keep several homeless shelters and heat relief services running, since pandemic-era federal aid that had been paying for those programs is set to expire this year. The council also approved more than $3 million for a flexible financial assistance program to help vulnerable families avoid homelessness. Katherine Davis Young, KJZZ News, Phoenix.
TIARA VIAN: In business news: This November marks 100 years since the establishment of Route 66. The highway ran from Chicago through several states including Arizona and ended in California. Bridget Dowd brings us the story of how the historic highway and an Arizona town inspired a popular Pixar film.
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BRIDGET DOWD: In the 2006 movie Cars, rookie race car Lightning McQueen is on his way to California to compete in the Piston Cup, the film's stock car racing championship, when he finds himself stranded in a place called...
TOW MATER: Radiator Springs! The cutest little town in Carburetor County.
BRIDGET DOWD: That's the film's rusty animated tow truck named Mater welcoming McQueen to town.
TOW MATER: Mater? Yeah, like "tuh-mater," but without the "tuh."
BRIDGET DOWD: While the look of Radiator Springs is based on various landmarks along Route 66, a key piece of its storyline came from Seligman, Arizona. It was one of several towns bypassed by the I-40 in the late '70s. Seligman lost business from thousands of daily travelers overnight. A similar tale to the one Sally, a blue Porsche, tells McQueen in the movie.
LIGHTNING MCQUEEN: Look, they're driving right by, they don't even know what they're missing.
SALLY CARRERA: Well, it didn't used to be that way.
LIGHTNING MCQUEEN: What happened?
SALLY CARRERA: The town got bypassed just to save ten minutes of driving.
BRIDGET DOWD: The DVD even included a special feature where Director John Lasseter talked about the inspirations for Cars, including a local celebrity from Seligman: Angel Delgadillo.
JOHN LASSETER: Angel Delgadillo.
BRIDGET DOWD: Delgadillo ran a barbershop in Seligman.
ANGEL DELGADILLO: When we were bypassed, at about this time of the day, 1:30, 2:00, the world stopped.
BRIDGET DOWD: Lasseter interviewed Delgadillo while he was working on the film in 2001, hearing how he refused to let his town die. In 1987, Delgadillo established the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona and campaigned for Historic Route 66 signage on the former U.S. highway to put it back on the map.
NANCY ECHEVERRIA: So, we're not the birthplace of 66—that's in Missouri. We are the historic birthplace of Route 66.
BRIDGET DOWD: That's Seligman resident Nancy Echeverria at the town's Route 66 Centennial Celebration last month. She says Delgadillo worked tirelessly to get a stretch of road from Crocton all the way to Kingman "historicized."
NANCY ECHEVERRIA: And that's the longest stretch of Route 66 that's open in the entire United States.
BRIDGET DOWD: Delgadillo and his wife opened a gift shop selling Route 66 merchandise, and the town rebranded itself as a nostalgic tourist destination, reminding travelers, much like in the movie Cars, to slow down and enjoy the journey rather than the destination.
SALLY CARRERA: Just passing through?
LIGHTNING MCQUEEN: Actually, I thought I'd stop and stay a while. I hear this place is back on the map.
BRIDGET DOWD: Eventually, similar historic associations were founded in all eight states to preserve the "Mother Road." That's why Delgadillo has been dubbed the "Guardian Angel of Route 66." And even at 99 years old, he celebrated the centennial with the community he pulled together nearly 40 years ago.
ANGEL DELGADILLO: We were raised in an era when you had to fight for everything that you had or wanted. So when our government ignored us, it didn't phase us, because we were not used to giving up!
BRIDGET DOWD: Today, Seligman's ties to the Pixar movie are celebrated by its residents. The streets are lined with old cars painted with faces like the animated characters.
MYRNA DELGADILLO: And speaking of cars, we are going to have Lightning McQueen here today!
BRIDGET DOWD: That's Angel Delgadillo's daughter Myrna, pointing to a life-sized replica of the film's main character. She planned the town's celebration to honor her parents' legacy.
MYRNA DELGADILLO: If it wasn't for them, Route 66 would be dead. So, because of them, Route 66 is alive and well!
BRIDGET DOWD: Down the street, international visitors stepped off a big tour bus to take photos in front of one of Seligman's antique shops alongside out-of-state road trippers like Mike Scott from Brownsburg, Indiana. He and his wife have been Route 66 fans for 30 years.
MIKE SCOTT: You can be in a town like this with all these people, or you can be in the middle of nowhere in the same highway going the same place. And it’s just special, and, you know, just how remote some of the country is. And it's the best way to see America.
BRIDGET DOWD: It's not his first time in Seligman, and he says he's always felt welcomed by the residents of a little town that was almost forgotten—much like how the kind-hearted citizens of Radiator Springs took in a selfish, arrogant race car and inspired him to be more empathetic. Bridget Dowd, reporting from Seligman.
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TIARA VIAN: And this is the Stories You Don't Want to Miss podcast. Thanks for listening.
UNNAMED HOST: Rio Salado College, in partnership with ASU and Penn State University, is offering a free 12-week semiconductor manufacturing training. The next session begins August 24th. More information at riosalado.edu/veterantraining.
TIARA VIAN: In Fronteras news: The glow of one movie lit the faces of people on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border last week. At the Nogales International Film Festival's signature "Film on the Fence" event, moviegoers watched the same film on back-to-back screens directly in front of the border wall. From the Fronteras desk, Nina Kravinsky was there in Nogales, Sonora.
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NINA KRAVINSKY: The wall between Nogales, Sonora, and Nogales, Arizona, is made of steel. It's tall, imposing, and the color of rust. Tonight, it frames the luminous singing face of the late Tejano music icon, Selena.
(Selena singing)
NINA KRAVINSKY: Grainy home video footage of Selena giggling with her sister, of the family goofing around on their tour bus, flickers on back-to-back screens, one on either side of the border wall.
ISABEL CASTRO: I mean, this has been such an unbelievably moving experience.
NINA KRAVINSKY: Isabel Castro, the creator of this documentary about Selena and her family titled Selena & Los Dinos: A Family's Legacy, spoke to audiences in a Q&A streamed to both sides of the border, just like her film.
FRANCISCO LANDIN: Our kind of metaphorical goal is to erase the border through the power of film.
NINA KRAVINSKY: Francisco Landin is the managing director of the Nogales International Film Festival. This year, the HDMI cord they used to connect the two screens through the gaps in the wall would need to be cut rather than rolled back—a consequence of new barbed wire on the U.S. side.
FRANCISCO LANDIN: Barbed wire just came up. They’ve been installing it for the last couple months. And so it's—it's bigger now. The wall looks bigger.
NINA KRAVINSKY: The wall is bigger and longer. Last year, the Trump administration awarded more than $4 billion worth of contracts for border wall construction on the U.S.-Mexico line. On the Arizona-Sonora border, government contractors are working on new sections of wall in remote areas like the San Rafael Valley, east of Nogales, even as migration hits record lows.
FRANCISCO LANDIN: People see things and believe things about the border, and to the people that live here on the border, none of that really matters.
NINA KRAVINSKY: Life in Nogales, Sonora, and Nogales, Arizona—together often called Ambos Nogales, or "Both Nogales"—is fluid. People cross the border daily by car and on foot to go shopping, visit family, and even work. Nogales, Sonora, filmmaker Arath Montoya was born and raised in this border community. His short film, Audrey, is one of more than 100 films that make up the festival, not all of them screened on the wall. Montoya says he's seen the film community in Nogales, Sonora, take root the past few years, thanks in part to the festival.
ARATH MONTOYA: (Translated) What we're trying to do is give visibility to our stories apart from the border. It’s much more than drug trafficking and violence. There's art and many artistic people.
NINA KRAVINSKY: Other filmmakers came from far away to participate in the festival and have their film screened on the wall.
DAVID ALVARADO: I—I don’t know. This is just something very weird about standing here and looking at the thing.
NINA KRAVINSKY: David Alvarado is the director of American Pachuco: The Legend of Luis Valdez, a documentary about the Chicano movement pioneer and screenwriter known for the play Zoot Suit and movie La Bamba.
DAVID ALVARADO: It's not a very welcoming image. But the fact that there is a film being projected on that is, I mean, a very powerful, striking counter-balance.
FRANCISCO LANDIN: This is just a reminder of something that we already know. We already know that we’re the same people across a giant metal border as if the metal border wasn't there. You know? So, these are just reminders of who we are as human beings. And that's really what we want to portray.
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NINA KRAVINSKY: Back at the showing of Selena & Los Dinos, a young Selena sings in a home video as the credits roll. The two audiences, one on either side of the wall, clap together. Nina Kravinsky, KJZZ News, Nogales, Sonora.
TIARA VIAN: In tribal natural resources: Local officials in Southern Arizona are voicing concerns about Copper World, a controversial mine proposed just south of the Tucson metro by Toronto-based mining company Hudbay Minerals. Gabriel Pietrorazio has more.
GABRIEL PIETRORAZIO: The Pima County Board of Supervisors has sent a slew of letters to investors, including the Tokyo-based Mitsubishi Corporation. Hudbay executives and Canadian regulators were also told the project poses unresolved risks to the Santa Rita Mountains.
MATT HEINZ: This is a county that embraces mining.
GABRIEL PIETRORAZIO: Matt Heinz is vice-chair of the county board.
MATT HEINZ: We work with ASARCO, we partner with them. So, this isn't like a "no mining, not in my backyard, never ever." It's just: why here?
GABRIEL PIETRORAZIO: Copper World sits on private land, but Hudbay has been looking to expand its footprint to the Coronado National Forest. Gabriel Pietrorazio, KJZZ News, Phoenix.
TIARA VIAN: In education news: In some parts of the country, old buildings endure; preserving a community's history and architecture is a priority. But here in the Valley, redevelopment has long been the standard. The wrecking ball is always swinging, creating a clean slate for new projects. Among the latest buildings to fall were three dorms on the south side of ASU's Tempe campus. They served many generations of Sun Devils, including Al Macias, who has this report.
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AL MACIAS: For several weeks, excavators have been hauling away the steel, brick, and concrete remains of Irish, Hayden, and Best dormitories. Irish Hall opened in 1940, Hayden in 1951, Best in 1956. I roomed there in the early '70s, first at Irish Hall for two years, and then as an RA at Best for another two years. Now, all three buildings are being leveled to make room for bigger and more modern dorms. Tim Smith is the vice president of facilities management at ASU. He says the cost of repairs and renovations, as well as student feedback about the mid-century designs, drove the decision.
TIM SMITH: And at the end of the day, between the amount of deferred maintenance that was in these facilities, the configuration of the community restrooms was really not an attractive option for current students and prospective students.
AL MACIAS: He says Irish and Hayden had the feel of military barracks. He says these were the only dorms on campus that still had community bathrooms.
TIM SMITH: So the idea of trying to preserve these was considered, but ultimately we ended up deciding that the best course of action is basically to start fresh.
AL MACIAS: In September of 1970, Jim Fieberg was a freshman from Chicago when I first met him at Irish Hall. He expected warm temperatures, but was in for a surprise his first night.
JIM FIEBERG: The swamp cooler really worked well at night, not so much in the day. But I was freezing and I didn’t bring a blanket. I thought, "I'm going to Arizona, it's hot." Tried to go to sleep; I didn’t sleep well, fully clothed, because I had no other option.
AL MACIAS: According to Fieberg, the community bathrooms and layout of the dorm encouraged socialization.
JIM FIEBERG: C-Wing had a courtyard which had some grass. We were able to play volleyball and guys were able to goof off, and guys were able to climb up on the roof, and they, instead of studying, they played Risk for hours on end.
AL MACIAS: In the spring of 1972, that courtyard became the centerpiece of an art project. The university allowed the residents of C-Wing to paint the dorm. The drab beige walls of the courtyard were transformed into an eye-catching but tasteful palette of red, white, and blue. Tim Agne is an editor at KJZZ. Thirty years after my friends and I passed through the dorms, he also lived in Irish C.
TIM AGNE: You had to walk by everyone else's room to go to the bathroom or whatever. So you had to get out and you had to kind of see everybody, say hi, and know what was going on.
AL MACIAS: Agne says they also undertook group projects like the residents from the '70s, although not quite as artistic. Their project?
TIM AGNE: Building a two-story beer bong to go from the second floor down to the first floor. And this thing, it held three cans of beer; hit like an absolute fire hose.
AL MACIAS: Alana Piralis lived there the same time as Agne. Some things had changed: all the dorms were now co-ed. But some things hadn’t.
ALANA PIRALIS: Even talking to people that were also at ASU at the time but in different dorms, I don’t think they had that same experience. So this is very unique to the setup and the size of that dorm.
AL MACIAS: There were times when dorm residents were there to support one another, especially on 9/11.
ALANA PIRALIS: But at least, you know, we had each other to talk to and we kind of were focused on the TV and trying to figure out what was going on. And it was kind of a major memory for me of something so awful happening but sharing it with other people, and we're all living this major life moment together.
AL MACIAS: There's not much of Irish, Hayden, or Best dormitories left. But for those of us who lived, painted, drank, and survived there, the memories will remain.
TIM AGNE: Yeah, everyone was kind of part of that same community and everybody was able to get along really nicely just because of that kind of setup.
ALANA PIRALIS: I think our situation, honestly, was very unique because of the way the dorm was set up and that it was such an open kind of plan with the courtyard.
JIM FIEBERG: People that I met in that complex, including the women's dorm, you know, they were very good years. I had a lot of fun, I met good, close friends, and I wouldn't have traded it.
AL MACIAS: The new dorms may be better for today's high-tech world where students connect via social media and virtual platforms. But the old buildings, where board games, bathrooms, and beer bongs brought Sun Devils together, held a magic that will be hard to replicate. At the site of the Irish-Hayden-Best complex, or what's left of it, Al Macias for KJZZ News.
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TIARA VIAN: In politics news: Another typically routine administrative vote by the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors devolved into public fighting with Recorder Justin Heap on Wednesday. From the politics desk, Wayne Schutsky reports.
WAYNE SCHUTSKY: The recorder and board have fought over control of various election duties since Heap took office last year. This time, Heap's attorney sent a letter calling on the board to abandon plans to designate ballot drop box locations for upcoming elections, arguing that responsibility belongs to the recorder. And the letter said anyone who helps set up or administer those drop boxes without the recorder's approval would be guilty of a felony. Supervisor Thomas Galvin says that threat put a target on the back of the people the county relies on to administer elections.
THOMAS GALVIN: This is the first time that I can recall of our own employees and volunteers being threatened with criminal penalties not only in Maricopa County, but in Arizona and the United States of America. This is shocking and appalling.
WAYNE SCHUTSKY: Heap accused the board of springing the drop box plan on his office at the last minute, but the board said it had worked closely with his staff for months. Wayne Schutsky, KJZZ News, Phoenix.
TIARA VIAN: In water news: A new federal proposal for sharing the Colorado River would take a new approach to managing water, forcing states to check in with each other every two years. Alex Hager reports that would create a lot of uncertainty for people who rely on the river's water.
ALEX HAGER: Details about the plan are limited, but we do know one big thing: it would issue big water cutbacks to Arizona, California, and Nevada over the next decade, with a chance to reassess every couple years. Arizona's top water official, Tom Buschatzke, says that could make life hard for cities and farmers.
TOM BUSCHATZKE: If you're an end user of water, how do you plan, not knowing how much water you're going to have out into the future?
ALEX HAGER: Buschatzke says there is a silver lining to the two-year check-ins; that unappealing idea of uncertainty could force state leaders to set aside their differences and come up with a long-term plan instead. Alex Hager, KJZZ News, Phoenix.
TIARA VIAN: And finally, from KJZZ's The Show: Medicaid cuts have been anticipated for months following the passage of the federal One Big Beautiful Bill Act. States like Arizona, where federal funds typically make up about 70% of all Medicaid spending, will need to make cuts somewhere to make up for that loss. Here in Arizona, even the near future is uncertain after Governor Katie Hobbs vetoed the budget approved by the Republican-led legislature in early May. Both the House and Senate voted to recess. Here's co-host Mark Brodie with more.
MARK BRODIE: Home and community-based services for people with disabilities could very well be on the chopping block when lawmakers return to budget negotiations, in part because Medicaid is technically not required to cover it. And if significant cuts aren't made during this legislative session, there's a very good chance they will be next year. KJZZ's Amy Silverman and Athena Ankrah spoke with several Arizonans with intellectual and developmental disabilities, as well as families of people with IDD, concerned about what the changes will mean. The Show's Amy Silverman starts this report.
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AMY SILVERMAN: Patricia Huber's day begins with a lift. Each morning, her mom steps into Trish's suite—a living area, bedroom, and bathroom, all decorated in hot pink—and helps her daughter prepare for the day.
CINDY MIDDLESTAT: Come in, come in!
AMY SILVERMAN: On a recent spring afternoon at the family's home in South Phoenix, Cindy Middlestat walks through the typical morning routine while Trish and her dad, Mark Huber, look on.
MARK HUBER: Do you think they'll guess your favorite color?
TRISH HUBER: (Laughing) Yeah.
AMY SILVERMAN: A machine whirs across a track on the ceiling with a hook and straps to lift Trish from bed and into her motorized wheelchair or to a mesh shower chair.
CINDY MIDDLESTAT: This goes up and down and then you use a sling to attach her to the "bull horn," we call it. And then she just goes from here into her shower room, so I'll show you. She's got—that's her bathing system; rolls in and out.
AMY SILVERMAN: Trish has cerebral palsy, specifically, spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy. Different kinds of cerebral palsy impact people in different ways, similar to autism and other developmental disabilities. For the lanky, short-haired 39-year-old, this means limited mobility and speech. Trish depends on her mom and other caregivers to help her out of bed, into the shower, into fresh clothes, to eat. And that's just the morning.
TRISH HUBER: (Unintelligible)
CINDY MIDDLESTAT: (Repeating) "I need help 24/7."
AMY SILVERMAN: It’s harder for people who don’t know her well to understand what Trish is saying. Out of habit, her mom repeats for her. Cindy and Mark know all about this. Since relocating to Arizona from Alaska several years ago, they've struggled to get services for their daughter. The litmus test for qualifying for home and community-based services under Medicaid is whether an individual would need to be institutionalized if they didn't receive government assistance. Even though Trish requires constant care, her family had to apply several times before Arizona's system accepted her. The state's long-term Medicaid services for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities include insurance; caregiving, ranging from simple respite to skilled medical care; supplies like wheelchairs and that lift that gets Trish out of bed; occupational, speech, and physical therapies; and housing if one's not living with family, which will likely be necessary for Trish when her parents are gone. The red tape gets sticky. And because of low pay, the difficulty of the job, and recent challenges for the immigrant population, which comprises a large percentage of direct service providers, it's almost impossible to find help. Aside from Cindy, recently Trish has only had one caregiver. Just before this story aired, the family was assigned a part-time nurse. That took almost five years. Still, the Medicaid services Trish does get offer a lifeline—and not just for Trish. Cindy gestures to Mark.
CINDY MIDDLESTAT: We’re both aging. I’m 56, he’s 65. And from a physical capacity, like my body is shot. You don't see it, but I've got torn shoulders, I've got pain injections, I've got—so, all of that is going on. And I'm not sure how much I've got left to give. I mean, I can't even have a surgery though right now because we don't have adequate care to recover for six to eight weeks of no lifting. Can't do that.
AMY SILVERMAN: It’s not only the physical toll. The potential financial costs are high. Recently, Mark says, Trish was hospitalized three times in two weeks.
MARK HUBER: And—and they were three and four-day stays. Some five to seven, yeah.
AMY SILVERMAN: Her parents have carefully preserved her equipment, bringing what they had from Alaska. But it's impossible to ignore some current needs. Trish's wheelchair is overdue to be replaced. A new wheelchair will be about $20,000, Middlestat says. Trish's bathing system is 20 years old and needs to be replaced as well, likely at a cost of more than $100,000.
MARK HUBER: I mean, if she loses her Medicaid and Medicare, I mean then it's—it's all out of pocket. I mean, she's not insurable at this point. Yeah. I mean, it would—honestly, we’d be poor.
AMY SILVERMAN: It’s a simple concept, mandated by the U.S. Supreme Court in the landmark 1999 Olmstead v. L.C. case and celebrated by disability advocates. Instead of housing people with intellectual and developmental disabilities in institutions, the government is tasked with finding ways to keep them in the community—in their own home or a small group home—providing them with a state-employed support coordinator who checks in periodically to ensure they are receiving the right services. Medicaid and the states foot the bill for those who qualify. The setup differs from state to state. Because of Arizona's particular Medicaid waiver, if you qualify, you are immediately eligible for services. In most other states, there are long waiting lists for assistance. Often, disability advocates observe that Arizona does, in effect, have waiting lists. The state and Medicaid just don't refer to them as such. But even once approved, Arizonans with IDD often wait months to get medical services, equipment, and therapy, can't find qualified medical professionals, and deal with a shortage of direct service providers. Arizona's unusual setup is a poorly kept secret in the disability community. Families have relocated to the state for years because of the seeming abundance of services for members with IDD. Enrollment in Arizona's Medicaid program has surged in recent years, in part because the state extended a pandemic-era federal program that paid parents to provide care for children under 18 with IDD who have been approved for services. In just five years, the number of members enrolled with the Division of Developmental Disabilities rose from just over 44,000 in 2019 to more than 58,000 by 2024, a more than 30% increase that has continued to balloon in the years since. In 2025, state lawmakers attempted to curb the runaway costs of the paid parent caregiver program. The community backlash was so intense, no one in the legislature has seemed willing to take it on this year.
JOHN MYERS: Part of it is just—is the community's level of expectations.
AMY SILVERMAN: That's executive director of the Arizona Developmental Disability Planning Council, John Myers.
JOHN MYERS: At least when it comes to disability services, we have the most generous system in the—in the nation. And as a result, people have gotten accustomed to receiving a really broad array of services that they would not even come close to receiving in most other states. I feel like in Arizona we have a system that is too ingrained to change.
ATHENA ANKRAH: Asher Valencia is 11. He has both Down syndrome and autism and lives with his family in Phoenix. Asher's mom, Brenna, says the early intervention services he received when he was very young were invaluable.
BRENNA VALENCIA: He is who he is because of those people, because of the whole community that has been involved with his care. He would not be at the level he's at if it was just me and his dad.
ATHENA ANKRAH: She says losing Asher's Medicaid services would be devastating.
BRENNA VALENCIA: He would not be able to have all of the things that he needs and uses and is absolutely why he has been successful. I—I can’t personally afford it.
ATHENA ANKRAH: Like Trish Huber and her parents, another half-dozen Medicaid recipients and families we spoke with say they aren't getting adequate services in Arizona. That even without official waiting lists, providers are not available or services are subpar. But all agree that without anything, it would be absolutely impossible for them to continue to live in the community or care for someone who does. Home and community-based services are already a target of Medicaid cost cutting. This means that institutions may not be a thing of the past much longer. Offering such services is not just an altruistic move. Housing someone in the community is on average far less expensive than keeping them in an institution. Ironically, by removing or drastically reducing home and community-based services to save money, our leaders could soon be racking up much higher bills. A 2023 report from the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, the federal agency that runs the nation's health insurance programs, revealed that nationally, per-user Medicaid spending on institutional care was 68% higher than community-based services. It’s about three times as costly for institutional long-term services and supports than home and community-based care. Almost all of Arizona's approximately 61,000 Division of Developmental Disabilities members live at home or in community settings, with about 1% in institutional care—a complete reversal of how people with disabilities have lived historically. It’s impossible to know just what will change, but highly likely that something will. When asked about the expected impact of HR 1 cuts, the state's Medicaid agency, Arizona Health Care Cost Containment System, or AHCCCS, told KJZZ that the law will, quote, "impact all Arizonans and will likely create significant strain for individuals with developmental disabilities and their families." While AHCCCS is committed to renewing its HCBS waiver and continuing to serve this population, ultimately, decisions regarding whether and how to fund HCBS services are questions for Arizona's policymakers, the agency wrote in an email to KJZZ. The state's lead policymaker, Governor Katie Hobbs, said in a statement that she's committed to protecting services, though changes may be necessary to ensure its survival. Quote, "Arizona has a strong tradition of providing cost-effective, community-based services to those with autism and other intellectual and developmental disabilities," Hobbs's office said in an email to KJZZ. Quote, "The Governor remains committed to serving this population, protecting access to these vital services, and we are continuing to work with the community members, clinicians, and our partners at CMS on common-sense reforms that will ensure these services are sustainable for generations to come."
AMY SILVERMAN: Lynn Wasley is 37. She lives in downtown Phoenix. She has autism and cerebral palsy, which in her case means she's unable to work and often can't care for herself. She depends on Medicaid services. Wasley hates the role that money plays in the lives of people like her.
LYNN WASLEY: If we could have a magic wand, I wish that—that people with disabilities are not just money and that's it. Like, I wish we are people. If the Medicaid went away, we would not have our survival.
AMY SILVERMAN: Alex Rank has cerebral palsy. They use a wheelchair and require help with daily tasks related to mobility. Rank lives in Phoenix with their family. They graduated from Arizona State University in December and want to pursue a career in talk therapy, working with others with disabilities. That would be impossible without the services they get from Medicaid and the state of Arizona.
ALEX RANK: I will say the services that I have gotten have been lackluster, but they're still crucial and I feel like if I had nothing, then there would be no point of me trying to function in society.
AMY SILVERMAN: Not long ago, Rank felt like there might be a real chance for them to move out of their family's house and live independently. Without adequate support, they say, it's only a dream. For KJZZ's The Show, I'm Athena Ankrah.
ATHENA ANKRAH: And I'm Amy Silverman.
MARK BRODIE: This story is part of Uninsured in America, a project led by Public Health Watch that focuses on life in America's health coverage gaps and the impact of potential Medicaid cuts and other changes.
TIARA VIAN: And this has been the Stories You Don't Want to Miss podcast, made possible in part by the Katina Foundation and Basis Charter Schools, Palo Verde Generating Station, SRP, and the Virginia G. Piper Charitable Trust. Thank you for listening and for your generous support. I'm Tiara Vian, this is KJZZ. Listen more, learn more, online and on the KJZZ mobile app.
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