Movie armorer completes prison sentence in fatal 'Rust' set shooting
Prison records show Hannah Gutierrez-Reed signed out of the Western New Mexico Correctional Facility in Grants to return home to Bullhead City, Arizona, on parole related to her involuntary manslaughter conviction in the death of Halyna Hutchins in 2021.
Gutierrez-Reed also is being supervised under terms of probation after pleading guilty to a separate charge of unlawfully carrying a gun into a licensed liquor establishment.
Baldwin, the lead actor and coproducer for 'Rust,' was pointing a gun at Hutchins during a rehearsal on a movie set outside Santa Fe when the revolver went off, killing Hutchins and wounding director Joel Souza.
A jury convicted Gutierrez-Reed of involuntary manslaughter in March 2024. Gutierrez-Reed has an appeal of the conviction pending in a higher court. Jurors acquitted her of allegations she tampered with evidence in the 'Rust' investigation.
Prosecutors blamed Gutierrez-Reed for unwittingly bringing live ammunition onto the set of 'Rust' and for failing to follow basic gun safety protocols.
Gutierrez-Reed carried a gun into a downtown Santa Fe bar where firearms are prohibited weeks before 'Rust' began filming.
The terms of parole include mental health assessments and a prohibition on firearms ownership and possession.
An involuntary manslaughter charge against Baldwin was dismissed at trial last year on allegations that police and prosecutors withheld evidence from the defense.
The filming of 'Rust' was completed in Montana. The Western was released in theaters this month.
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Daily Mail
6 hours ago
- Daily Mail
MTV star charged in friend's fatal overdose released from jail after being granted $15K bond
Whitney Purvis has been released from custody and has returned home after she was charged with involuntary manslaughter. Purvis, 33, who appeared on the MTV reality show 16 and Pregnant, was arrested earlier this month in connection with the fatal February 17 drug overdose of her friend John Mark Harris at 37. Authorities said she provided him with the narcotics that led to his tragic end. The television personality was granted a bond of $15,000 by a Georgia court last Thursday, with conditions including sobriety and a curfew. At that time, it was not immediately clear if Purvis would be able to make bond, insiders told TMZ, which first reported the news. Now, however, it has emerged that she left jail this Monday after a judge amended the agreement to stipulate that she could go home once she had been in Floyd County Correctional Institution for 14 days, according to People. She must abide by all the other conditions previously set, including that she keep a 7 p.m. to 7 p.m. curfew; stay at a residence in Bartow County, Georgia named by the court; and refrain from consuming drugs or alcohol. Purvis is not permitted, under her terms of release, to initiate contact with any members of the family of the victim, according to court documents reviewed by TMZ. Purvis on March 3 took to the site of the funeral home which handled arrangements for John Mark Harris, and penned a memorial in his honor. 'John mark, I hate that I found out what happened today and missed your funeral,' Purvis wrote on the Henderson & Sons Funeral Home site. She continued: 'I wish I could've found out sooner and attended your celebration of life.' The MTV star posted the message more than three months before she was arrested Monday in Floyd County, Georgia in connection with with involuntary manslaughter and distribution of a controlled substance, among other felony counts, TMZ reported July 7. Purvis 'distributed a substance presented as "Tranq," commonly known as Xylazine and Fentanyl, to the victim, which directly contributed in the victim's death due to a toxic overdose,' law enforcement officials said in an arrest affidavit reviewed by People. It's been an awful year for Purvis, who would later pen an emotional memorial for her son Weston following his death at the age of 16 on June 2; Daily Mail has reached out to Purvis via Instagram for further comment on this story. Purvis thanked her late confidante 'for being such a great friend to me and always making me feel beautiful and cared for.' Purvis said that her late friend had been a dear one, as they grew close over their passion for cooking: 'We bonded over being chefs, our love of cooking and our struggle.' Harris had been employed as a chef at Barnsley Gardens, a popular North Georgia resort. She praised Harris for his candor and intelligence in their interactions over the years. 'I could tell you anything and you always knew what to say or give me your honest opinion and advice,' Purvis said. The MTV alum added 'You've came to my rescue on many occasions and saved me over the years. 'I am so very thankful for the times we had together.' Purvis - who's also charged with use of a communication device to commit a felony involving controlled substances - said that she was dealing with serious emotional trauma over the loss of her friend. 'My brain just can't process this happened,' she said. 'I don't want it to be true.' Purvis listed off a number of things she associated with Harris that she would miss in the wake of his passing. 'I'll miss waking up to your silly messages and pictures you'd send me,' she said. 'I'll miss marshal and lunchbox. I'll miss your amazing cooking. 'I'll miss snuggling on the couch watching tv with you. I'll miss sitting outside, smoking camel crush cigs w/ you how we talked about talked about life, gossiping and you telling me what movies/shows I need to watch next.' Purvis characterized her late friend as 'a truly good hearted, one of a kind man' who she would 'never forget.' Purvis, who has more than 17,800 followers on Instagram, wrapped up in saying: 'Rest in peace and my condolences to your family and friends. 'I pray they are able to find some kind of comfort during this tragic time. I love you forever, John Mark. Love, Whitney.' Following the death of her son last month, Purvis spoke on social media about how she was understandably struggling in the wake of her child's unexpected passing. 'This is so hard to write,' Purvis said. 'My beautiful son, Weston has passed away. He was only 16 years old. Life is so cruel and unfair. I just dont understand. 'Oh my baby is gone and I don't know what to do with myself. He was so perfect. This is really my worst nightmare come true. 'How do you go on in life after losing a child?' Purvis said she was 'in disbelief,' thinking that 'this cannot be happening' and that she didn't 'want it to be real.' She added of her late son: 'I love you so much, Weston Owen Gosa. I would do anything just to hold him. Words just can't describe the pain I am feeling. 'God, I love you so much. You are my heart. I was so proud of the young man you were becoming. I just can't go on without you. Rest in Peace, my angel. You are gone too soon. April 2, 2009 - June 2, 2025.'
The Independent
11 hours ago
- The Independent
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament. They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup, which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability" and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
Covid, social media, Black Lives Matter: Ari Aster's Eddington takes 2020 on and mostly succeeds
Eddington, writer-director Ari Aster's polarizing new black dramedy, opens with a troubling sight: an unhoused and clearly distressed man walking through the New Mexico desert, bleating an incoherent ramble of modern buzzwords. Troubling not for the man, but for the content of his ramble and the time: late May, 2020. TikTok. My immediate reaction was a derogatory 'oh no'. Aster has specialized in gut-twisting, unworldly horror, the kind of brain-searing, highly symbolic shocks that linger for weeks; I watched large stretches of his first two features, the demonic family parable Hereditary and Swedish solstice nightmare Midsommar – through my fingers. But in Eddington, he took on not one but two insidious bogeymen haunting our psyches: phones in movies and Covid. Nearly every character in Aster's black satire of Covid-era upheaval possesses a device essential to modern life but often incompatible with cinematic storytelling. 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Second screens are inherently un-cinematic, and the tighter the internet's hyper-loops of viral attention coil, the harder it is to capture in cinematic projects that usually spans years from conception to audience. Something almost always feels off – the interface distracting, the tone askew, the liminality and speed incongruous with the story. I can probably count on two hands the films that have captured digital life in a way did not feel inaccurate, didactic or self-important, let alone seamlessly woven it into story – Eighth Grade, Sweat, Tár, Dìdi, Past Lives. I remember them because it's still so rare; it is difficult to incorporate the mundane minutiae of screen life, tie oneself to time-stamped events, or tap into the propulsion of social media and succeed. 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It does so by grounding this admittedly bloated satire of political and social turmoil in a hyper-specific moment in late May 2020. Whereas the winners in the digital culture film canon usually succeed by using the phone screen as a window into one character's psyche – think the surveilling Instagram Live that opens Tár, or the Instagram scroll montage in Eighth Grade – Eddington aims for a specific cultural moment; phone lock screens keep time during a week deep in US lockdown, as frustration, anger, fear and outrage fester into outright chaos. My particular brand of brain worms means that I remember, in crystal-clear chronological order, the concerned Atlantic articles, to NBA cancellation, to Tom Hanks coronavirus diagnosis death spiral, to New York completely shutting down on 11 March, as well as the beginning of the Black Lives Matter protests after the murder of George Floyd on 25 May. 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