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[{"type":"text","text":"Catch up with the show on your favorite podcast platform!"}]

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Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>Cowboy State Daily Show with Jake - Tuesday, July 22, 2025 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Jake in the 307. Weekday mornings 6-10 a.m.

Cowboy State Daily Show with Jake - Tuesday, July 22, 2025

 It's the Cowboy State Daily Morning Show With Jake. Weekday mornings 6 - 10 a.m. Catch up with the show on your favorite podcast platform! 

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Jackie Dorothy.

Jackie Dorothy

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

When former Fremont County coroner Ed McAuslan arrived in Riverton, Wyoming, as a young police officer in January 1973, the town was rougher than it is now.

“When I first came here, it was a little more wild,” McAuslan said. “There were bombings and just all kinds of things went on back then.”

McAuslan said that a bomb had been placed under the patrol car of Undersheriff Duel Price. The car was parked in his driveway at Price’s home when the explosion rocked the neighborhood. 

No one was hurt, but McAuslan said that it was incidents like the bombing were the on-the-job training he and other rookie cops received. 

There was no police academy in the 1970s and McAuslan learned the intricacies of his job on the streets of Riverton. 

Much of the town's crime centered around the numerous bars in Riverton. McAuslan said that just at the intersection of Third and Main streets there were three bars on the street corners.

McAuslan had gotten into law enforcement by chance. 

In 1962, he had joined the military and spent his tour of duty at Vandenburg Air Force Base in California during the early days of missiles. 

He said that the base test-fired missiles and for the next four years, he was a motion picture lab technician working with film of the missile launches, mostly to the South Pacific.

He left in 1966 and returned home to Wyoming where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Wildlife Management. After graduating, McAuslan was unable to find work in his chosen field. 

“I was married with a young son to support,” McAuslan said. “There were only two openings with Wyoming Game and Fish and 75 applicants.”

The chief of Police in Glenrock encouraged him to apply for a job, and in May 1972, McAuslan was employed as a patrol officer. 

He soon transferred to Riverton and hit the streets in January 1973 as a rookie cop, acquiring knowledge as he went.

His first lessons involved learning the city laws and statutes.

“Our job was to patrol and try to keep the crime down,” McAuslan said. “We also had the responsibility of working traffic and doing accident investigations. We covered the whole aspect of it.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Investigator And Coroner "}]

McAuslan was a patrol officer for only 10 months before being promoted into investigations. 

It was there that the rookie learned how to investigate major crimes like burglaries and homicides. He was no longer a traffic cop, but it also meant long hours since McAuslan was always on call. 

His duties increased when, in 1975, Fremont County Coroner Larry Lee asked Police Chief Dennis Horyza if McAuslan could assist with death investigations. 

It was approved. The same year, McAuslan also became an EMT and worked with the Fremont County Ambulance until 1990.

“For a long time, the coroners of the state were just funeral directors,” McAuslan said. “But things got to the point where they did more investigations.”

Lee was a funeral director and fire chief when he asked McAuslan to help him with death investigations. Their jurisdiction covered all of Fremont County and the Wind River Reservation. 

McAuslan worked in law enforcement and in the coroner’s office for the next 24 years. 

When Lee retired in 1998, McAuslan was elected to the office in Lee’s place in 1999 and retired from the Riverton Police Department. 

McAuslan became a coroner full-time and held the post until his own retirement in 2014. 

“Working with families during a death, whether it is natural, accidental or a homicide, is the most difficult part,” McAuslan said.“My job was to determine the cause and manner of death, and to assist families however I could. Having compassion is the most important thing there is.”

McAuslan said that it was crucial to remember to always have respect for the people no matter how they treat you. 

He related almost being attacked when he brought news of a husband’s death in a car crash to the victim’s wife. She reacted in a hate-filled rage and went after McAuslan. 

McAuslan said that although he was just the messenger, he knew he could become the target of the loved ones' anger and learned not to take it personally. 

That day, he was grateful he had taken a pastor with him who was able to calm the grief-stricken woman while McAuslan tactfully withdrew from her home.  

“If you can't respect the people and what's going on with them, then you need to get another profession,” McAuslan said. “You can't react to how they treat you because it is a very difficult circumstance.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Bridging Cultures"}]

Since McAuslan had jurisdiction over the reservation, he also had to learn to deal respectfully with two different cultures. He worked closely with several tribal members over the years, including Georgianna “Georgie” Crawford and Willie Le Clair.

One example he cited was when they were dealing with a hit-and-run homicide on the reservation and the family was not allowed to enter the scene. 

They asked McAuslan to allow a tribal elder to bless the body, and he was able to convince the FBI and Indian Police that this could be could be done without disturbing the investigation.

“I made a habit of keeping a braid of sweet grass in each vehicle,” McAuslan said. “If the family wanted something like that, we always had it with us.” 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Preventing Deaths"}]

During McAuslan’s many years as coroner, suicide was a big issue and he became proactive in preventing them, especially with youth.

“Georgie and I spent a lot of time with the kids and we covered the entire county,” McAuslan said. 

He was working for the coroner’s office when in 1985, a rash of suicides by hanging ultimately claimed the lives of 12 young men from the Wind River Indian Reservation, while 88 others fortunately failed in their attempts. 

During this time McAuslan, Crawford and others doubled their efforts to reach the kids and stop the deaths. 

Eventually, the hangings stopped following a Tribal Ceremony, but left behind grieving families.

McAuslan said that another aspect of suicide that is not considered is how no one talked about cleaning the scene following a suicide. This was left to family or friends. 

It broke his heart as he witnessed the additional pain mothers especially were put through.

“At that time, I realized that an issue no one talked about was how messy it was when someone shoots themselves,” McAuslan said. “I was able to talk to some people and get some money to establish the fund to do cleanup so the families didn't have that responsibility.”

McAuslan said that it takes a special person to be willing to clean up a suicide scene and he finally had a young intern, Erin Ivie who took over the job. 

After proving that she had the same compassion as McAuslan, Ivie is currently the Fremont County Coroner. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Compassion"}]

McAuslan said that one of the hardest investigations as a coroner was when someone lost a child to SIDS. 

There is usually no explanation for the death and so rather than prevention, he and Crawford set out to give as much support to the grieving families as possible. 

In the early 2000s, their compassionate approach received national attention and they were invited to make a presentation at the National SIDS Conference in Orlando, Florida.

“We would have families who felt ostracized,” McAuslan said. “The only help we could give them was to support them as we did our investigation.”

McAuslan learned to not rush the families and to sit with them as they held their children for the last time. 

“It's not natural for a parent to lose a child,” McAuslan said. 

In dealing with so many deaths over the past decades, McAuslan said that he cannot dwell on the horrors he has witnessed but rather on the people he has helped.

“You can't focus on the deaths or you won't survive,” McAuslan said. “I still remember a few cases, like the couple who murdered their children in 1979 and the suicides in the 1980s, but for the most part, I don’t think about them.” 

In his retirement, McAuslan has turned to photography and taking classes on petroglyphs at Central Wyoming College. 

“It’s important to keep moving forward,” McAuslan said. “To focus on the good.” 

Ed Mc Auslan 2 inset Ed the retired photographer 6 7 26

<title>Wyoming People: Fremont County’s Ed McAuslan Learned To Be A Coroner On The Job | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Ed McAuslan was the longtime Fremont County coroner who learned his trade on the job as a young cop recruited into the office. A rash of 100 attempted suicides by hanging in 1985 — 12 successful — opened his eyes wide to “an issue no one talked about."

Wyoming People: Fremont County’s Ed McAuslan Learned To Be A Coroner On The Job

Bessemer Bend, a true Wyoming ghost town, has been claimed back by nature and alfalfa fields. 

Before its demise, Bessemer was where Wyoming’s oldest cabin was built by desperate fur traders with the Pacific Fur Co. 

Decades later, Bessemer became part of the Oregon, California, Mormon, Pony Express, and Overland trails that all crossed at Red Buttes/Bessemer Bend.

Later, the famous Goose Egg was built on the spot. This extravagant stone mansion is said by some say to have inspired scenes in Owen Wister’s “The Virginian.” 

Today, Bessemer Bend is a broad loop of the North Platte River southwest of Casper that shows no signs of the failed city. 

The landscape is dominated by irrigated fields, ranchland, cottonwoods along the river, and the red hills and buttes that explorers and Oregon Trail emigrants knew as Red Buttes. 

The town of Bessemer, now long gone, had gained a reputation as the “Queen City of the Plains.” Her founders believed that their city would one day be the grandest in Wyoming. 

Their hopes were dashed by a rigged election and the railroad. 

Ultimately, Casper “stole” the honor from them when it became the seat of Natrona County instead and, one by one, the residents of Bessemer hauled their homes over to Casper.  

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Fur Traders "}]

Bessemer first appeared in written record in the 1812 diary of fur trader Robert Stuart. 

Stuart had been hired in 1810 by John Jacob Astor to work for the Pacific Fur Co. and was on the company ship, the Tonquin, when he became marooned at Fort Astoria.  

The crew had sailed first to the Falkland Islands and then around Cape Horn and up the western coast of North America, reaching what is now Astoria, Oregon in May 1811. There, they established Fort Astoria.

When the crew sailed farther north, to Vancouver Island, an interaction with Native Americans resulted in many deaths and the destruction of the ship. 

It was left to Stuart and a small group of men to return eastward overland. The party left Astoria on June 29, 1812, bound for St. Louis. With Stuart were Ramsay Crooks, John Day, Benjamin Jones, François LeClerc, Robert McClellan, and André Vallé.

They started up the Columbia River in canoes. Before they were out many days,  John Day became “demented" and was sent back to Astoria in the care of some friendly Indians. 

In a few days, they came across some men who had been separated from another party and gave them provisions. 

A man named Miller joined Stuart in Day's place according to Molker. 

The group headed east, through what is now Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Wyoming, traveling on what would later become the Oregon Trail. 

Highlights of their journey that Stuart detailed in his diary included paddling down the Snake River, crossing Teton Pass and seeing Jackson Hole, and discovering the South Pass.

By the time they reached Bessemer, the seven men were starving and weak, desperate to rest. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A Refuge"}]

Described as “footsore, hungry, and utterly weary,” fur trader Robert Stuart wrote in his diary that he and his six companions had been following a river (the North Platte) for two days but had to find a place to stop and recuperate. 

The cabin they were soon to build would become the oldest recorded cabin in Wyoming. 

It was November 1812 when Stuart described how they had found a low point of land on a bend in the river and had selected it for their winter camp. 

There were cottonwoods and willows there for building materials and firewood and the area had plenty of wildlife to sustain them. 

The men had already seen the Grand Canyon and discovered the passage through South Pass. They had their horses stolen by the Crow and were on foot. 

Weakened by their trek, they had started missing shots and were starving when they had finally succeeded on killing an injured bull buffalo. 

Though tempted to eat the meat raw, Stuart had fed the men broth to regain their strength. 

Stuart describes their cabin at Bessemer as eight feet wide and 18 feet long. The walls were six feet high and the whole was covered with buffalo skins. 

The fireplace was in the center and the smoke found its way out through a hole in the roof.

“As the slaughter of so many buffaloes had provided the party with beef for the winter, in case they met with no further supply, they now set to work, heart and hand, to build a comfortable wigwam,” Stuart wrote. “In a little while, the woody promontory rang with the unwonted sound of the axe.”

He said that by the second evening, the cabin was complete. 

They rested and recuperated from the exertion and hunger they had suffered. They had been in their little cabin for five weeks when a small band of Arapahoe Indians visited them for a few days. Although the Arapahos did not harm them, Stuart was concerned that they might return in “another mood.” 

He packed up his men and some provisions and moved on toward the east, leaving behind their home on Bessemer Bend. When Stuart’s party arrived at Saint Louis they had shortened the route of Lewis and Clark, had discovered the Sweetwater and North Platte rivers and had discovered the most important gateway through the Rockies, South Pass.

Mary Lou Pence and Lola Homsher in their book, “The Ghost Towns of Wyoming,” said that some pioneers claimed the cabin stood for many years while others said the Indians immediately swooped down and burned it. 

Whichever the case, the cabin has long been gone when the Oregon Trail followed part of the same route first made by the small party of fur traders. 

The Goose Egg, or the Searight House, was built on Bessemer Bend and by 1888, a town had been planned, adopting the name of Bessemer. 

The founders had high hopes of being a metropolis. A sawmill and brick plant were brought in and homes and businesses sprung up quickly. 

When a brewery and liquor house were brought in by Max Jaensch, the residents of Bessemer saw a bright future.

“For as one citizen put it,” Pence and Homsher wrote. “Here the consumption of distilled waters was far above the average in American communities.”

In 1888 to 1889, the town promoters laid out 49 blocks and reserved land for what they hoped would become Wyoming's future capitol building. Bessemer grew quickly and attracted settlers, ranchers, and businesses. 

As Wyoming was preparing for statehood, Bessemer entered the race to become the county seat of the proposed Natrona County.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"However, it was not to be. "}]

According to Pence and Homsher, just as Bessemerites were sitting back “gloating” over the meager 304 pollings cast in Casper as compared to their 667 count, it was announced that some “skullduggery” had been perpetrated. 

The investigators ruled that Bessemer had cheated and had more votes than residents. Their count was thrown out and Casper became the county seat in 1890. 

Residents of Bessemer were still angry when they spoke to historians Pence and Homsher in the 1950s. 

“They say we cheated and voted every man, woman and kid,” one old-timer told Pence and Homsher. “Well, I know one of their men who voted three times. But they don’t tell about that!” 

The following year, the printing press for the Bessemer Journal was seized and moved to Casper to become the Natrona Tribune. 

The railroad selected Casper as the regional rail terminal and the end of Bessemer was official.

Many of the buildings were moved to Casper until only the Goose Egg and a few others remained. Eventually, even the stone mansion was torn down and Bessemer quietly faded into the past. 

“When they said the Goose Egg was no more, you could hear that awesome hush,” Pence and Homsher wrote. “You could almost see Chalkeye and Fingers and Honey Wiggin and Baldy and Missou wipe away a tear.”

Bessemer is now returned to pasture and agricultural land. However, the memory of the ghost town and the first cabin from 1812 remain. 

“You can rip a house to pieces, ’til it ain’t no more, but you can’t tear up the things that happened there,” an old-timer told Pence and Homsher in remembrance of his beloved Bessemer and the people that once lived there.

Bessemer Bend and inset 6 7 26

<title>Wyoming History: Once A Bustling City On Oregon Trail, Bessemer Now A Ghost Town | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Bessemer Bend, now peaceful ranchland, was once a stop on the Oregon Trail and a bustling city known as the “Queen City of the Plains.” Now it’s a true Wyoming ghost town that disappeared when Casper was picked as the county seat. 

Wyoming History: Once A Bustling City On Oregon Trail, Bessemer Now A Ghost Town

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

When Wyoming State Archives materials archivist Suzi Taylor first saw an auction listing for what was billed as the original glass plate negative for Butch Cassidy’s Territorial Prison mugshot in a forwarded email from Cowboy State Daily, she stopped everything she was doing and hustled upstairs to double-check the state's collection.

“I was fairly certain we still had it in our collection,” Taylor told Cowboy State Daily. “But I ran upstairs just to be sure. Sure enough, it was in the box, just where it’s supposed to be.”

That had her breathing a sigh of relief as she carefully put this treasured state item back into its acid-free sleeve and closed it back up in a reinforced box. 

The mix-up highlights how questions of provenance can affect high-value Wild West auctions, but it also shows how Wyoming curators quietly document and safeguard key pieces of the state’s Western history behind the scenes. 

offered by RR Auction failed to meet its reserve price and was ultimately not sold during a recent sale, the company told Cowboy State Daily. 

Questions raised about the negative’s provenance — including the fact that Wyoming still holds the original glass plate — are being reviewed before the company decides whether and how to offer the item again.

Taylor, for her part, said the fact the auction house’s glass plate negative isn’t the original doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a fake. 

She said contemporary copies were made from Cassidy’s print mugshot for wider distribution to law enforcement.

That means while not original, it’s still period to the time. 

Since negatives of the time were made of breakable glass, authorities likely didn’t want to handle the original too often. Re-photographing a print was a much safer way to make additional copies for other law enforcement agencies.

Cassidy’s mugshot is one of the most iconic of the few images ever taken of America’s last cowboy outlaw, made famous in the Robert Redford movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."

Taken during Cassidy’s only significant prison stint, the photo freeze-frames were taken of the young man before the notorious Wild Bunch appeared.

Cassidy never owned up to leading the Wild Bunch, though law enforcement officials of the day said he was — loudly and often.

Historians, meanwhile, have various opinions on that. 

Some suggest there’s good evidence Cassidy would have scoffed at the idea anyone could lead such a loose confederation of misfits and malcontents as the Wild Bunch, while also pointing out he couldn’t possibly have been in as many places as law enforcement was claiming. 

Others have suggested the Wild Bunch was probably Cassidy's way of getting even with Wyoming for the trumped-up horse thief charges that the cowboy outlaw always maintained were fabricated by his enemies.

Cassidy’s younger sister, Lula Betenson, meanwhile, once claimed her brother told her during a secret family reunion that if Wyoming wanted to treat him as an outlaw, then he’d show them what an outlaw really was.

The truth of that will never be known for certain. Instead, there’s this compelling photo that captures the mystery of it all in a glance. 

In it, Cassidy looks less like an outlaw posing for a mugshot and more like a patron posing for a casual portrait on a relaxing Saturday or Sunday afternoon. He wears a dark, structured suit coat and a white shirt buttoned up to his neck.

It’s his enigmatic expression that captures and holds attention, though. He offers the viewer neither smile nor frown, but his eyes seem to know something his lips aren’t about to ever tell.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Rarely Sees Light Of Day"}]

The original glass plate negative used to create Cassidy’s Territorial Prison mugshot is on a short list of treasured artifacts whose condition is frequently monitored at the Wyoming State Archives.

“I had laid my eyes on that one not too long ago, but I had to make sure it was exactly where I’d left it,” Taylor said. “I check it fairly regularly, just to make sure it’s where it’s supposed to be and hasn’t deteriorated.”

Glass is among the most non-reactive substances on the planet. But the chemicals used to create the image itself, which are laid down in a thin emulsion directly on the glass, are much more fragile.

“The image itself and the emulsion can, if the chemicals weren’t properly fixed, start to fade in odd ways,” she said. “So, we want to be able to catch that. And sometimes the emulsion gets really dry and starts flaking off the glass itself, because the image sits right on top of the glass. 

"Over time, it can delaminate and separate, so we want to make sure we are extra careful and catch that before it becomes a problem.”

Taylor frequently spot-checks other mugshots in the Territorial and Wyoming State Penitentiary collections, which include thousands of negatives of outlaws. 

Among the collection are mugshot negatives for other Cassidy contemporaries like Albert “Slick” Nard and Joseph Nutcher. 

All of the glass plate negatives are kept in acid-free sleeves inside a rigid box with additional support. That ensures the glass plate won’t accidentally break. 

Cassidy’s negative, in particular, is rarely handled. 

“We have a digital surrogate that we use instead of taking the negative out,” she said. “The less it’s handled, the less likely it is to break.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Helps Tell Territorial Prison’s Story"}]

Another place where Cassidy’s mugshot appears is the Wyoming Territorial Prison State Historic Site, where Superintendent Jessica Lira has made it a prominent part of the museum’s exhibits.

“We have a big portrait of his mugshot, his intake photo, right when you walk into the building,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “The exhibit talks about his life and how, even though he only spent 18 months and was let out early for good behavior, it was after that he starts blowing up trains and blowing up safes around Wyoming and Colorado.”

Cassidy, Lira said, is the most famous outlaw the territorial prison ever held, and his face is an instant hook into the larger story of crime and punishment on the frontier.

Lira uses high-quality prints and digital reproductions for her exhibits, keeping the originals at the Wyoming State Archives to protect them. That’s how the state balances public access with preservation.

Lira uses the mugshots to tell stories about real people, as well as to illustrate changing ideas about law enforcement in the West.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"How Experts Know"}]

There are several telling details that immediately distinguish Cassidy’s original Territorial Prison mugshot negative from the mugshot negative offered in RR Auction’s Western Americana sale of the Jochen Zeitz collection. 

“The (prison) photograph of Cassidy was taken in May 1895 by Laramie photographer Louis Heyn,” historian and Cassidy expert Mike Bell has told Cowboy State Daily. “The original shows a wider view of Cassidy, including part of his leg in striped pants. 

"The picture was then cropped to show the head and torso version, which is well-known and widely circulated.”

Bell, too, believes it is possible the auction house’s glass plate negative is a contemporary copy of the original photograph. Lots of police departments did have copies of Cassidy’s mugshot at the time.

“For example, Sheriff Louis Grant Davis of Sweetwater County got a copy,” Bell said. “He showed it to E.L. Carpenter, the manager of the Pleasant Valley Coal Company, which was held up by two men in 1897.”

Carpenter told Davis at the time that he recognized the photo of Cassidy as being one of the two men who had held him up.

Butch Cassidy negative main illustration 6 7 26

<title>Wyoming Archives Has Butch Cassidy Negative, Despite ‘Original’ Offered At Auction | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Despite an East Coast auction house advertising a glass plate negative of Butch Cassidy’s mugshot as a one-of-a-kind, the original is housed in the Wyoming State Archives. “I was certain we had it in our collection,” archivist Suzy Taylor said.

Wyoming Archives Has Butch Cassidy Negative, Despite ‘Original’ Offered At Auction

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Dale Killingbeck

Dale Killingbeck

A woman born in Casper and raised on a ranch near Riverton, along with her young son, were among the more than 900 people who died at Jonestown, Guyana, in November 1978, when self-styled pastor turned messianic figure Jim Jones infamously commanded them to drink a poisoned potion.

Wanda Shirley Swinney moved to Jones’ People's Temple compound in Guyana in August 1977, reuniting with her husband and son. 

How Swinney’s life went from her Wyoming beginnings to ending with the command of a cult leader in Jonestown is a tale of family tragedy, an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, a father’s introduction, and years of brainwashing from the cult’s exalted leader.

The bottom line is Swinney was devoted to Jones. 

In a letter to him written in Guyana, she thanked her “precious Father” for providing their life in Guyana.

“There is no limit to what we can do if we follow your teachings and put them into practice,” she wrote. “Thank you Father for the privilege of being here with you.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"When It Came Tumbling Down"}]

A California congressman, along with journalists, flew to the jungle community in November 1978 to check on his constituents and other Americans who were at Jones’ compound, dubbed “Jonestown."

U.S. Rep. Leo Ryan had heard that people wanted to leave, but were not allowed.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"There was no heavenly outcome."}]

Headlines and history record 918 deaths in Guyana that included Ryan’s assassination and the murder of journalists who accompanied him at the hands of Jones’ deluded followers. Of those, 909 died by drinking the “potion."

Jones died by either self-inflicted gunshot or at the hands of an obedient assistant. Some followers slit their throats, but most of his congregants drank a cyanide-laced potion at his command.

In his now-infamous “Death Tape,” Jones tells his followers “how much” he loved them and tried to give them “the good life.” 

A woman born in Casper and raised on a ranch near Riverton, along with her young son, were among the more than 900 people who died at Jonestown, Guyana, in November 1978, when self-styled pastor Jim Jones infamously commanded them to drink poison.

Cowboy State Daily Show with Jake - Tuesday, July 22, 2025

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Features Reporter

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