An American Dream at risk: What happens to a small Nebraska town when 3,200 workers lose their jobs

LEXINGTON, Neb. (AP) — On a frigid day after Mass at St. Ann’s Catholic Church in rural Nebraska, worshippers shuffled into the basement and sat on folding chairs, their faces barely masking the fear gripping their town.

A pall hung over the room just as it hung over the holiday season in Lexington, Nebraska.

“Suddenly they tell us that there’s no more work. Your world closes in on you,” said Alejandra Gutierrez.

She and the others work at Tyson Foods' beef plant and are among the 3,200 people who will lose their jobs when Lexington's biggest employer closes the plant next month after more than two decades of operation.

Hundreds of families may be forced to pack up and leave the town of 11,000, heading east to Omaha or Iowa, or south to the meatpacking towns of Kansas or beyond, causing spinoff layoffs in Lexington's restaurants, barbershops, grocers, convenience stores and taco trucks.

“Losing 3,000 jobs in a city of 10,000 to 12,000 people is as big a closing event as we’ve seen virtually for decades,” said Michael Hicks, director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at Indiana's Ball State University. It will be “close to the poster child for hard times.”

All told, the job losses are expected to reach 7,000, largely in Lexington and the surrounding counties, according to estimates from University of Nebraska, Lincoln, shared with The Associated Press. Tyson employees alone will lose an estimated $241 million in pay and benefits annually.

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.

The plant's closure threatens to unravel a Great Plains 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.

Now, those symbols of economic progress — mortgages and car payments, property taxes and tuition costs — are bills that thousands of Tyson workers won't have an income to pay.

At St. Ann's church, Gutierrez sat between her daughters and recalled being told of the plant closure just before Thanksgiving while she visited a college campus with her high school senior, Kimberly.

“At that moment, my daughter said she no longer wanted to study,” Gutierrez said. “Because where would we get the money to pay for college?”

A tear slipped down Kimberly's cheek as she looked at her mother and then down at her hands.

If you threw a dart at a map of the United States, Lexington — called “Lex” by locals — would be just about bullseye.

It's easy to miss driving down Interstate 80, half hidden by barren hackberry trees, corn fields and pastures of Black Angus cattle, but a driver can spy the plant's hulking industrial buildings pumping steam.

The plant opened in 1990 and was bought by Tyson 11 years later, attracting thousands of workers and nearly doubling the town's population within a decade.

Many came from Los Angeles, then stricken by recession, including Lizeth Yanes, who initially hated what she called “a little ghost town."

But soon Lexington flourished, with suburbs sprouting among bur oak and American elm trees. The downtown, a strip of cobblestone streets and brick buildings, has a Somali grocer that abuts a Hispanic bakery; locals attend over a dozen churches and several city recreation centers.

To this day, the plant creates the town's rhythm as workers roll on and off the daily A, B and C shifts and fill restaurants, school pickup lines and the one-screen movie theater showing “Polar Express.”

“It took a long time for me to actually enjoy this little place,” said Yanes. “Now that I enjoy it, now I have to leave.”

The atmosphere inside the Tyson plant, where workers process as many as 5,000 head of cattle a day, laboring on slaughter floors, cleaning crews or trimming cuts of meat, feels “like a funeral,” she said.

“Tyson was our motherland," said plant worker 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?”

The only thing Adan is set on is that his kids finish the school year in Lexington, where school officials say nearly half of students have a parent working for Tyson.

The school district, where at least 20 languages and dialects are spoken, has higher high school graduation and college attendance rates than the state and national average, and one of Nebraska's biggest marching bands. Residents are proud of the diversity and the tightknit community, where young people return to raise families.

During Mass at St. Ann's, parishioners gave the cash in their pockets to a fund for families in financial need, despite knowing they'll be out of work next month. Afterward, Francisco Antonio ran through his future employment options with a sad smile.

After the plant closes on Jan. 20, 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.

“We need another opportunity, job, here in Lex,” he said. “Otherwise Lex is gonna disappear.”

The domino effect could go something like this: If 1,000 families skip 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!”

Martinez’s grandson once told his grandfather that when he grows up he wants to work at Tyson. The child's fifth-grade sister recently gathered with classmates to talk about the changes happening with their parents. Some were headed to California, others to Kansas. All were in tears.

If he can't keep up with bills, the restaurant will close, but “there’s just nowhere we can go," said Martinez, who undergoes dialysis for diabetes, has an amputated foot and prays for a miracle: that Tyson will change its mind.

He knows it's unlikely. Asked by The Associated Press 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.

Many, including City Manager Joe Pepplitsch, are hoping Tyson puts the plant up for sale and a new company comes in bringing jobs. That isn't a quick fix, requiring time, negotiations, renovations and no guarantee of comparable jobs.

“Tyson owes this community a debt. I think they have a responsibility here to help ease some of the impact,” he said, noting Tyson doesn't pay city taxes due to a deal negotiated decades ago.

Near the plant, at the Dawson County Fairgrounds, Tyson workers recently filled a long hall as state agencies — responding with the urgency of a natural disaster — offered information on retraining, writing a resume, filing for unemployment and avoiding scammers when selling homes.

Attendees' faces were subdued, like listening to a doctor’s prognosis. “Your financial health is going to change," they were told. “Don’t ignore the bank, they will not go away.”

Many of the older workers 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 Adan, the Kenyan immigrant.

Back at St. Ann's, workers echoed that concern.

“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 said she's 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.

Tyson Foods employee Lizeth Yanes cries during an interview in Lexington, Neb., Saturday, Dec. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)

Armando Martinez, left, and his wife, Maria Dolores Perez, right, work in their restaurant, Los Jalapenos, near the Tyson Foods' beef plant in Lexington, Neb., Wednesday, Dec. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)

Cattle line up at a trough at the Darr Feedlot in Cozad, Neb., Friday, Dec. 5, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)

Tyson Foods employees wait for help at an informational meeting held by the Nebraska Department of Labor in Lexington, Neb., Wednesday, Dec. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)

Steam rises from chimneys during the night shift at the Tyson Foods' beef plant in Lexington, Neb., Wednesday, Dec. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Thomas Peipert)

KYIV, Ukraine (AP) — Initial drafts of U.S. proposals for a peace deal between Ukraine and Russia meet many of Kyiv's demands, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said Monday, although he suggested that neither side in the almost four-year war is likely to get everything it wants in talks on reaching a settlement.

“Overall, it looks quite solid at this stage,” the Ukrainian leader said of recent talks with U.S. officials who are trying to steer the neighboring countries toward compromises.

“There are some things we are probably not ready for, and I’m sure there are things the Russians are not ready for either,” Zelenskyy told reporters in Kyiv.

U.S. President Donald Trump has for months been pushing for a peace agreement. However, the negotiations have run into sharply conflicting demands from Moscow and Kyiv. But U.S. envoy Steve Witkoff said Sunday he held “productive and constructive” talks in Florida with Ukrainian and European representatives.

Zelenskyy said that “nearly 90%” of Ukraine’s demands have been incorporated into the draft agreements.

The backbone of the proposed deal is a 20-point plan, he said. There is also a framework document on security guarantees between Ukraine, European countries, and the United States, as well as a separate document on bilateral security guarantees granted to Ukraine by the U.S.

Several provisions are being discussed, according to Zelenskyy. They include the Ukrainian army remaining at a peacetime level of 800,000; membership in the European Union; and European forces, under the leadership of France and the U.K. and with a “backstop” from Washington, ensuring “Ukraine’s security in the air, on land, and at sea.”

“Some key countries will provide presence in these domains; others will contribute to energy security, finance, bomb shelters, and so on,” the Ukrainian president said.

Ukraine is arguing that the bilateral document with U.S. should be reviewed by the U.S. Congress, with some details and annexes kept classified, Zelenskyy said.

The U.S. team is now in talks with Russian envoys, and Washington has asked that no details be released, he added.

Zelenskyy said Monday he met with his military commanders who reported that defensive lines are holding firm against the Russian onslaught.

“In (recent) weeks, the Russian army has significantly increased the intensity of attacks, and the number of Russian losses has increased accordingly,” he said in a post on Telegram.

Ukrainian forces hit an oil terminal, a pipeline, two parked jet fighters and two ships in a series of strikes on Russian soil, officials said Monday.

The attacks are part of an ongoing campaign to disrupt the Russian war effort and sow fear behind the front line, where outnumbered Ukrainian troops are straining to hold back Russia’s bigger army.

The strikes also seek to undermine President Vladimir Putin’s attempt to portray Russia as negotiating from a position of military strength in U.S.-led peace efforts, which have yet to make a breakthrough on key points.

The killing of a top Russian general by a car bomb in Moscow on Monday, with investigators suspecting Ukraine was behind it, could be another instance of Kyiv picking surprise targets.

Ukrainian forces struck the Tamanneftegaz oil terminal, an ammunition depot and a launch site for attack drones inside Russian territory and Russian-held Ukrainian territory, Ukraine’s General Staff said in a statement Monday.

A pipeline, two docks and two ships were damaged in the southern Krasnodar region, and a large blaze broke out, the statement said, without specifying what kind of weapons were used in the attack.

It added that a Ukrainian-made missile also hit a temporary base for Russia's 92nd River Boat Brigade in Olenivka, in the occupied Crimean Peninsula.

A separate strike targeted an ammunition depot in a Russian-controlled portion of the Donetsk region, aiming to slow the Russian advance there, the General Staff said. A Russian launch site for attack drones was also hit.

Ukrainian partisans set fire to two Russian jet fighters in an operation on Sunday evening at a base near Lipetsk, a city in western Russia, according to Ukraine’s military intelligence.

Russia’s Ministry of Defense said only that its forces shot down 41 Ukrainian drones overnight, three of them over the Krasnodar region.

Meanwhile, Russian forces kept up their targeting of Ukraine’s energy sector, aiming to deprive civilians of heat and running water during the frigid winter. Russia has tried to knock out power in Ukraine throughout the war, in a tactic that Ukraine refers to as “weaponizing winter.”

Energy infrastructure across five regions were attacked during the night, Ukraine’s Ministry of Energy said.

Russia struck Ukraine with 86 drones of different types overnight, Ukraine’s air force said. Ukrainian forces stopped 58 of them, it said.

Follow AP’s coverage of the war in Ukraine at https://apnews.com/hub/russia-ukraine

In this photo taken on Saturday Dec. 20, 2025 and provided by Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade press service, ruins in the town of Kostyantynivka, the site of heavy battles with the Russian troops in the Donetsk region, Ukraine. (Oleg Petrasiuk/Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade via AP)

In this photo taken on Saturday Dec. 20, 2025 and provided by Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade press service, ruins of buildings in the town of Kostyantynivka, in the Donetsk region, Ukraine. (Oleg Petrasiuk/Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade via AP)

In this photo taken on Saturday Dec. 20, 2025 and provided by Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade press service, a soldier walks through the ruins of the town of Kostyantynivka, in the Donetsk region, Ukraine. (Oleg Petrasiuk/Ukraine's 24th Mechanized Brigade via AP)