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Michigan's new cyberbullying law will go into effect on March 27. Public Act 457 of 2018, sponsored by Rep. Pete Lucido (R-Shelby Township), formally defines cyberbullying as a misdemeanor. It states that cyberbullying is a crime punishable by 93 days in jail or a fine of up to 0. In addition, a person who engages in a continued pattern of harassing or intimidating behavior and causes serious injury to the victim is guilty of a felony punishable by up to five years and a ,000 fine. A "pattern of repeated harassment" is a felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison and a ,000 fine. The pattern means a a series of two or more separate noncontinuous acts of harassing or intimidating behavior. According to the law, cyberbullying includes posting a message or statement in a public media forum about any other person if both of the following apply: The message or statement is intended to place a person in fear of bodily harm or death and expresses an intent to commit violence against the person.The message or statement is intended to communicate a threat or with knowledge that it will be viewed as a threat.For more information on the law, click 1179

Broadway star Nick Cordero died months after contracting coronavirus, his wife said Sunday."God has another angel in heaven now," Amanda Kloots wrote on Instagram. "My darling husband passed away this morning. He was surrounded in love by his family, singing and praying as he gently left this earth."Cordero's right leg was amputated and he was in a coma because of coronavirus."I am in disbelief and hurting everywhere," Kloots wrote. "My heart is broken as I cannot imagine our lives without him. Nick was such a bright light. He was everyone’s friend, loved to listen, help and especially talk. He was an incredible actor and musician. He loved his family and loved being a father and husband. Elvis and I will miss him in everything we do, everyday."Cordero entered the intensive case unit at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles on March 31.He had roles on Broadway in “Bullets Over Broadway,” “Waitress” and “A Bronx Tale.” This article was written by Aliza Chasan for WPIX. 1010

There is no excuse not to vote. That’s the message from a 94-year-old woman who traveled more than 300 miles to cast her ballot.The Detroit woman, who has been staying with her family in a Chicago suburb, didn’t receive her absentee ballot. She then asked her son to drive her to the Motor City to vote.“Vote, but know who you are voting for and why.”That’s the message Mildred Madison has for our viewers. Mrs. Madison has never missed the chance to vote, in any election, since she was 21.She was married at the age of 22 and has four kids, but that never slowed her down.In fact, she spent her life devoted to improving the community from being a PTA volunteer at her children’s school, all the way to becoming the President of the League of Women Voters of Cleveland and Detroit.She even ran for office herself.“When I found out my councilman was not doing what he was supposed to do, I ran against him and I became a councilperson.”In 2006, she worked with Wayne County and Detroit City Clerks to help improve the absentee ballot process.She says civic engagement is a must.“Women, especially black women, were the last ones that got the power to vote.”Mrs. Madison asked her son to drive her to the Coleman Young Municipal Center in Detroit to vote Monday. They drove back to Illinois the same day.Mrs. Madison tells us she voted for Democratic Presidential Candidate Joe Biden, getting an extra push from Kamala Harris.Like the Vice Presidential candidate, Mrs. Madison went to Howard University and was in the same sorority.“It’s wonderful to see a black woman running for Vice President.”She says it’s crucial for voters to support every candidate who takes office, even if you didn’t vote for them.“Once they win support them, they can’t do everything for you but they are going to need to have your backs, just like you want them to have your back.”Mrs. Madison is working on a memoir and she wants to open the Mildred Madison Center for Civic Engagement to inspire young adults to vote. This story originally reported by Syma Chowdhry on wxyz.com. 2083

My Mom, the one and only, Maggie Griffin, passed away today. Hours ago. I am gutted. She was my best friend. She was my family. You knew her. She appreciated you guys so much. I’m shaking. I won’t ever be prepared. Her point of view. So unique. We just GOT each other. I’m so grateful you got to be part of her life. You loved her. I know it. She knew it. She’s irreplaceable. I’m telling you right now, I am not doing well with this. I’m rambling now. Sorry. It truly feels like the end of an era. Oh, and OF COURSE she went on St Patrick’s Day. I love you guys. KG 582

NASHVILLE, Tenn. -- When you think of Nashville, you think bright lights and big music. Poverty is not part of its image. “There’s so many creative people that never get a chance to do anything with it. You’re too busy trying to survive, trying to eat, trying to stay alive,” said Chris Bandy, an artist. But poverty does exist in Nashville, and the rest of the U.S. At a house on the east side of the city, some of those living on less are doing a little more. “I’m doing what I was meant to be, you know, being a practicing, creative artist,” said Kateri Pomeroy, a Nashville artist. She uses the studio space at Poverty for the Arts. Pomeroy and her husband Sam are two of the first artists to join POVA, as it’s known. Sam was finishing up a wood sculpture he’s been working on. POVA was started by Nicole Minard as a way to help people who didn’t have access to art supplies and studio space. “I really saw the breadth of talent so many people on the streets had, and I would get questions like, ‘how can I get my art in a coffee shop?’ or ‘people see me drawing on the street every day, how do I get it to them without a cop pulling up and stopping me?’” said Minard. Minard provides the space, and the supplies for people who want to create art and she helps them sell it. POVA pays artists 60 percent of the selling price. They reinvest the other 40 percent into rent and supplies. “In those five years since we’ve started, we’ve served over 75 different artists and we’ve paid out over ,000 to artists on the street,” said Minard. The program gives exposure for artists who otherwise wouldn't have it. “If you don’t have the right school, the right gallery, the right representation, you really don’t get seen,” said Bandy For those that use the space to paint, draw or scribble, POVA is a place to prove they belong, even if they've known their potential all along. Edwin Lockridge was born with a paintbrush in his hand. “My parents actually have pictures of me, photographs of me as a baby with a pen and paper in my hands,” said Lockridge. But life has been rough for him and his family. “My mother and my father both have Alzheimer's bad, excuse me. I admit that I’m not in the best of health myself,” Lockridge said. To him, POVA is a matter of life and death. “The revenue from my art buys art supplies, medicine, necessary stuff to keep me alive for my basic survival," said Lockridge. For Pomeroy, Bandy and Lockridge, POVA provides opportunities they could not have thought possible. “This place has given me a transfusion, a new blood, and a new way to live" said Pomeroy. “We are family,” said Bandt. “There are no words, there are no words. This is my extended family without a doubt,” said Lockridge.That sense of family and community is a work of art no one can put a price on.   2838