MEXICO CITY (AP) — The most recent torrential rains in east-central Mexico, which have left at least 76 dead and dozens more missing, have raised questions again about the government’s ability to alert people to severe weather in time.
Authorities continue to describe the days of torrential rain last week that set off landslides and river flooding as unpredictable. Residents talk about never having seen anything like it. But researchers say what was considered normal before no longer exists, because climate change has accelerated these events and made them more frequent. And that requires preparation.
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Angela Perez sits on a chair in her house in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Wednesday, Oct. 15, 2025, after deadly floods and torrential rain. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
Soldiers clean a flooded street in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Tuesday, Oct. 14, 2025, after torrential rain. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
President Claudia Sheinbaum, left, and Veracruz Gov. Rocío Nahle García survey authorities' aid distribution in Poza Rica, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025, after widespread flooding and landslides. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
Houses sit damaged after flooding in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
A Marine helps a woman cross a flooded street in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
“We’re being more and more affected by these phenomena and we can’t go on like this, failing by not knowing what to do and not having … adequate warning,” said Christian Domínguez, a researcher at the Atmosphere and Climate Change Institute at Mexico’s National Autonomous University. She recalled that last year’s crises were drought-related and this year, it’s the rain.
It's a pending issue for Mexico and for countries with more resources and advanced technology like the United States, which experienced a devastating flash flood in Texas this year that killed at least 136 people. Experts say society and governments appear to be stuck in the past and haven't accepted that severe weather is now the norm.
In Mexico’s case, its president for the past year, Claudia Sheinbaum, is a trained scientist with a background in climate change. But while she expressed willingness this week to review prevention protocols, she didn’t mention climate change and insisted it was impossible to predict with precision how much rain was going to fall in some places.
“The language being used has to be considered” in how to communicate the dangers in an event, Carlos Valdés, former head of Mexico’s National Disaster Prevention Center. “The first thing we have to do is recognize that there is a change … the atypical is now the most typical.”
There are technological gaps. For example, Domínguez recognized that Mexico doesn't have all of the instrumentation for things like measuring river levels in real time that could provide detailed hydrological forecasts or enough weather radars to allow meteorologists to make better forecasts.
But she emphasized that even with the existing forecasts there could be much better prevention strategies, if officials think not only of preparing for hurricanes, but also the possibility that the confluence of various weather systems, as occurred last week, has the potential to create a dangerous situation.
In the Gulf Coast state of Veracruz, the day before the main rivers in the northern part of the state jumped their banks, torrential rain was forecast to dump nearly 8 inches (20 centimeters) of rain.
It ended up being three times that, but the original forecast should have been enough for residents and authorities to get organized, Domínguez said.
But in Poza Rica, the hardest-hit city, residents started to flee their homes when the water was already flooding them. Some said that authorities warned them too late. Most didn’t think it was going to be so bad.
Jonathan Porter, chief meteorologist with AccuWeather, said that with climate change, severe weather is happening outside of the season when it would be expected and in places not normally associated with a flooding risk.
“A severe weather event can develop anywhere when the ingredients come together,” he said.
Mexico has risk maps, and civil defense officials are in charge of alerting people, “but beyond alerting, the people have to also understand what is being said,” Domínguez said.
In late 2023, shortly after Hurricane Otis devastated Acapulco, having strengthened incredibly in a matter of hours, a woman in a wrecked neighborhood said that she had heard a Category 5 hurricane was coming, but didn’t know that meant that all of the houses were going to blow away.
Experts say that not only do civil defense officials require training, but people need to be educated too.
Over decades, Mexico has developed new ways to alert of seismic activity in central and southern Mexico. With memories of Otis still fresh, Sheinbaum said that her administration would focus more on prevention involving hurricanes and rains.
On Friday, thousands of soldiers and officials worked to reopen roads cut by landslides and washed out bridges in Veracruz. But just to the north in neighboring Tamaulipas state, officials watching the Panuco River had already issued clearer warnings Thursday about the chance of flooding when it had risen almost a foot (30 centimeters).
Sheinbaum said Friday that the area’s mayors had been informed in time and nearly 500 people had already moved into shelters. On Saturday, the river continued rising.
“When authorities' actions are good, nothing happens,” Valdés said.
Angela Perez sits on a chair in her house in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Wednesday, Oct. 15, 2025, after deadly floods and torrential rain. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
Soldiers clean a flooded street in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Tuesday, Oct. 14, 2025, after torrential rain. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
President Claudia Sheinbaum, left, and Veracruz Gov. Rocío Nahle García survey authorities' aid distribution in Poza Rica, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025, after widespread flooding and landslides. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
Houses sit damaged after flooding in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
A Marine helps a woman cross a flooded street in Poza Rica, Veracruz state, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Felix Marquez)
LEXINGTON, Neb. (AP) — A small town in rural Nebraska is losing its biggest employer, a Tyson Foods' beef plant, which will be laying off 3,200 workers next month in a town of around 11,000 people.
Lexington, Nebraska, is expected to lose hundreds of families who will be forced to move away in search of other work. The exodus will likely cause spinoff layoffs in the town's shops, restaurants and schools.
The impact on the town and workers will be “close to the poster child for hard times,” said Michael Hicks, director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at Indiana’s Ball State University.
All told, the job losses are expected to reach 7,000, largely in Lexington and the surrounding counties, according to a report from the University of Nebraska, Lincoln, released Monday. Tyson employees alone will lose an estimated $241 million in pay and benefits annually.
It threatens to unravel a town where the American Dream was still attainable, where immigrants who didn’t speak English and never graduated high school bought homes, raised children in a safe community and sent them to college.
Tyson says it’s closing the plant to “right-size” its beef business after a historically low cattle herd in the U.S. and the company’s expected loss of $600 million on beef production next fiscal year.
Tyson workers, business owners and town leaders spoke to The Associated Press for a report on the plant’s closure.
Here are some takeaways.
Lexington sits near the dead center of the United States, surrounded by fields of corn, grain silos and cattle.
The plant opened in 1990 and was bought by Tyson a decade later, attracting thousands of workers who labor on cleaning crews and forklifts, on the slaughter floor and trimming cuts of meat.
The town nearly doubled in population and flourished with leafy neighborhoods, recreation centers, a one-screen movie theater and a good school system. Nearly half the students in Lexington have a parent who works at the Tyson plant, school officials estimated.
Many Tyson workers have lived in Lexington for decades, building community at the plant and in the town's many churches, including Francisco Antonio.
The 52-year-old father of four said he’ll stay a few months in Lexington and look for work, though “now there’s no future.” He took off his glasses, paused, apologized and tried to explain his emotions.
“It’s home mostly, not the job,” he said, replacing his glasses with an embarrassed smile.
Thousands of Tyson workers have mortgages, car and insurance payments, property taxes or tuition costs that they won’t have an income to pay.
For many, finding another job isn't easy, particularly older workers who don’t speak English, haven’t graduated high school and aren’t computer savvy. The last application some filled out was decades ago.
“We know only working in meat for Tyson, we don’t have any other experience,” said Arab Adan. The Kenyan immigrant sat in his car with his two energetic sons, who asked him a question he has no answer to: “Which state are we gonna go, daddy?”
“They only want young people now,” said Juventino Castro, who’s worked at Tyson for a quarter-century. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the time I have left.”
Lupe Ceja has saved a little money, but it won’t last long. Luz Alvidrez has a cleaning gig that will sustain her for awhile. Others might return to Mexico for a time. Nobody has a clear plan.
“It won’t be easy,” said Fernando Sanchez, a Tyson worker for 35 years who sat with his wife. “We started here from scratch and it’s time to start from scratch again.”
Tears rolled down his wife’s cheeks and he squeezed her hand.
The domino effect could go something like this: If 1,000 families leave town, said economist Hicks — who wouldn’t be surprised if it were double that — seats would be left empty in schools, leading to teacher layoffs; there would be far fewer customers in restaurants, shops and other businesses.
Most of the customers at Los Jalapenos, a Mexican restaurant down the street from the plant, are Tyson workers. They fill booths after work and are greeted by owner Armando Martinez’s mustachioed grin and bellow of “Hola, amigo!”
If he can’t keep up with bills, the restaurant will close, said Martinez, who undergoes dialysis for diabetes and has an amputated foot.
“There’s just nowhere we can go,” he said.
Many, including City Manager Joe Pepplitsch, are hoping Tyson puts the plant up for sale and a new company comes in bringing new jobs. That isn’t a quick fix, requiring time, negotiations, renovations and no guarantee of comparable jobs.
Pepplitsch, who noted that Tyson hasn't had to pay city taxes due to a deal negotiated years ago, said that “Tyson owes this community a debt. I think they have a responsibility here to help ease some of the impact."
Asked by the AP for comment about plans for the site, Tyson said in a statement that it “is currently assessing how we can repurpose the facility within our own production network.” It did not provide details or say whether it plans to offer support to the community through the plant closure.
Two women listen during an informational meeting held by the Nebraska Department of Labor for Tyson Foods employees in Lexington, Neb., Thursday, Dec. 4, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)
A worker walks through steam coming from the Tyson Foods' beef plant in Lexington, Neb., Thursday, Dec. 4, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)
Trucks carrying grain drive past cattle in pens at the Darr Feedlot in Cozad, Neb., Friday, Dec. 5, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)
Drivers wait in line at a mobile food bank organized by Crossroads Mission Avenue near the Tyson Foods' beef plant in Lexington, Neb., Thursday, Dec. 4, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)
Two men walk past a business in downtown Lexington, Neb., Saturday, Dec. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)