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Remembering The Victims of the Idaho Mass Shooting

Wanjiru Waweru, Jadetimes Contributor

W.Waweru is a Jadetimes News Reporter Covering America News

Remembering The Victims of the Idaho Mass Shooting
Image Source: AP News

Twin Falls, Idaho – Three Victims who have been identified were shot and killed in the Idaho Mass Shooting at the In-N-Out Burger Restaurant on Saturday, August 1:


  • Ashley Garibay, 23, from Stockton, California.

  • Dale Schultz, 66, from Salt Lake City, Utah.

  • Christopher Claunch, 59, from Hagerman, Idaho


The families identified them, especially one of them, who was described as someone who "lit up a room with her bright smile", and another who went sober after overcoming the death of his newlywed wife.


Ashley Garibay


Remembering The Victims of the Idaho Mass Shooting
Image Source: Courtesy of Garibay Family

Ashley Garibay worked as an In-N-Out Burger Associate in California. She traveled to Twin Falls to support Trainers at the Food Chain’s brand-new restaurant. 


“We are heartbroken and devastated by the loss of Ashley – a devoted daughter, sister, auntie, cousin and friend – whose life was taken from us far too soon," said Garibay's family. 


Family members reported that the 23-year-old's first job was working at an In-N-Out Burger restaurant in Stockton, California, and “fell in love with it.” 


“She proudly traveled to open new stores, and her dream was to one day manage an In-N-Out store. She was passionate about serving Customers and left this world doing what she loved to do,” said Garibay’s family.


“Ashley was an amazing, beautiful soul who loved living life,” said Garibay’s Family. “She was adventurous, outgoing, smart and driven, never letting obstacles get in her way. She lit up a room with her bright smile and a laugh that was contagious. She was a friend to all, and no matter what difficulties she was facing, she always found a way to help others find the light in the darkness.”


Christopher Claunch


Remembering The Victims of the Idaho Mass Shooting
Image Source: Courtesy of Claunch Family

A California native, 59-year-old Christopher Claunch was head over heels with Idaho and made a decision to move there three decades ago, according to his sister, Kimberly Castaneda. He used to work at the Renaissance Ranch Recovery Center in Rupert, Idaho. He went sober for two years after battling with alcoholism.


According to ABC News, Clautch’s sister explained on The New York Times, “that her brother's first wife died in a car crash just three months after they were married and that ‘he had always hurt from that loss.’ After moving to Idaho 30 years ago, Claunch met his partner of 25 years, Teresa Sperry, whom he shared a home with.”


Claunch enjoys cooking, traveling, and spending time in nature.


Remembering The Victims of the Idaho Mass Shooting
Image Source: Courtesy of Schultz Family

A Family Member of Dale Schultz explained the 66-year-old as a hard-working, down-to-earth human being. They also described him as “the model father and grandfather and husband.” His wife was injured during the shooting. They were together as high school sweethearts and created a life together for almost five decades in marriage. They have three children together.


About Wanjiru Waweru


Wanjiru Waweru is a Jadetimes Contributor. You can email Wanjiru at sellmypaperwork@gmail.com.

She is the Owner of “Sell My Paperwork." Visit the website and follow it on social media.


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The Vanishing Nations: Can a Country Disappear Beneath the Sea?

Ravichandran Harini, Jadetimes Staff

Imagine waking up one morning to news that your country may not exist by the time your grandchildren are old. Not conquered, not renamed, simply gone, swallowed by the ocean that once lapped gently at its shores. For a handful of nations, this is not a thought experiment. It is a slow-moving emergency written into the tide charts.


The culprit is climate change, and the mechanics are deceptively simple. As greenhouse gases trap more heat, glaciers and polar ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica melt and pour fresh water into the oceans. At the same time, warmer seawater physically expands, a process scientists call thermal expansion. According to NASA's satellite record, global mean sea level has risen more than 100 millimeters since 1993, with roughly two thirds of that rise coming from melting ice and one third from ocean warming. More troubling still, the rate of rise has roughly doubled over the past three decades, climbing from about 2.1 millimeters a year in 1993 to around 4.5 millimeters a year today.


For low lying island nations, these millimeters translate into existential risk. The Maldives, Tuvalu, and Kiribati sit only a meter or two above sea level on average. Rising seas contaminate freshwater aquifers with salt, erode coastlines, and turn king tide floods into routine events. Tourism revenue, agriculture, and basic infrastructure all suffer, while entire communities face the prospect of climate driven displacement, becoming, in effect, refugees without a war.


Yet the story is not one of pure despair. International efforts are accelerating, from the Paris Agreement's push to limit warming, to investment in renewable energy and coastal defences such as seawalls, mangrove restoration, and artificial land reclamation. Tuvalu has even begun digitally archiving its territory and culture, while some nations explore floating infrastructure as an adaptation strategy rather than surrender.


The truth lies between alarm and resilience. Science warns clearly that without deep cuts to emissions, some island nations may become uninhabitable within this century. But adaptation, diplomacy, and innovation are buying time and dignity for the people who call these fragile places home.


Protecting these nations is not a regional issue but a test of global solidarity. The waters rising around Tuvalu today may be lapping at larger coastlines tomorrow. Urgent, coordinated climate action is no longer optional; it is the price of keeping whole nations on the map.

Beyond the Final Whistle

Ravichandran Harini, Jadetimes Staff

How the Biggest Sporting Event Is Transforming Tourism, Business, and Global Culture


The plaza outside MetLife Stadium hums before kickoff, a wash of flags, drums, and languages colliding in the summer heat. A vendor in New Jersey sells scarves in Portuguese, Spanish, and Arabic within the same ten minutes. None of these fans came for a single match  they came for a feeling that no other event on Earth quite replicates.


That feeling is also, unmistakably, an economy. The 2026 FIFA World Cup, spread across 16 cities in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, was projected to draw roughly 6.5 million attendees, including 2.6 million international visitors, and to add close to nine billion dollars to North American GDP over the tournament's six-week span. Hotels filled, restaurants extended hours, and card-spending data from Bank of America showed overall purchases in host cities climbing 6.3 percent year-over-year, with visitor spending alone up nearly 17 percent. In Canada, organizers linked the tournament to more than 24,000 jobs and roughly CAD 3.8 billion in economic output, much of it temporary but still meaningful for workers in hospitality, transport, and event production.


Broadcasting rights and sponsorship deals stretch that reach further still, turning stadiums into stages watched by billions and turning global brands into fixtures of the fan experience. Cities used the moment to test transit upgrades, security systems, and tourism branding that will outlast the trophy ceremony Miami, for instance, leaned on existing stadiums and airports rather than costly new construction, hoping to leave behind operational gains without idle infrastructure.


Yet the balance sheet is not uniformly rosy. Economists caution that gains in US host cities are often "marginal and short-lived," concentrated narrowly in leisure and hospitality, while host governments absorb security and infrastructure costs that FIFA's own revenues rarely offset. Weaker-than-expected hotel bookings in some cities, immigration-related travel anxieties, and soaring ticket prices have all tempered projections. Add the carbon footprint of a tournament spanning three countries and dozens of intercontinental flights, and the sustainability question becomes impossible to ignore.


Still, something durable remains once the confetti settles: rebuilt transit lines, a generation of young players inspired by what they watched, friendships formed in fan zones between strangers who shared nothing but a love of the game. Only one nation lifts the trophy. But for six weeks, the World Cup does what little else can  it turns the world, briefly and imperfectly, into a single crowd.

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