Gainesville, Fla. – What happened when University of Florida Student Andrew Meyer spoke at a Senator John Kerry forum in September?

After having spoken to students here, it would seem that everyone who was at the actual event saw something different. 

Adding to the confusion, those who didn't attend saw videos, but as you can see from looking at the video here, you may draw one conclusion to what happened by looking at one angle, and you may see things in a different light by looking at it from a different camera angle.

VIDEO: 'Don't Tase me, bro!' - angle 1

Each of these videos, from video cameras and cell phones was included in the just completed Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE) report. The state investigation exonerated the University of Florida police of wrong doing, in part, after viewing these videos. 

VIDEO: 'Don't Tase me, bro!' - angle 2

Meyer, who yelled yelled "Don't Tase me, bro!" as he scuffled with officers during the on-campus speech last month, will not face criminal charges and has apologized for his actions.

VIDEO: 'Don't Tase me, bro!' - angle 3

Take a look at the videos yourself. What do you think?

Tune in to the Today Show on Thursday for an exclusive live interview with Meyer. In a Q & A with TodayShow.com, Meyer answered some of the questions surrounding the event.

Professional basketball returns to New Orleans full time tonight.  It's a welcome sight for fans that feared the team's two year post-Katrina relocation to Oklahoma City might become a permanent move. 

The Hornets played the past couple of seasons there, citing uncertain economic conditions here in New Orleans. They're back now, though, and ready to give it a go. 

The Hornet's staff has been working hard to re-introduce the team to the city (only one player, forward David West was on the team when it last called New Orleans home.) They're close to a sell out for opening night, but the real question is whether they can maintain that level of support throughout the season. 

Several corporate sponsors have come on board, and sales of suites have been brisk, but season ticket sales have been a little short of where the team hoped to be. Nonetheless they say they're optimistic that a winning team on the court will translate to fan support in the stands.  All they need to do is look to the city's football Saints to see how a little winning will get the fan base fired up.

The Hornets have the full backing of NBA commissioner David Stern who will be in attendance tonight.  As part of the league's commitment to the city, he is unveiling a wide-ranging community service program that will put dollars and manpower into the rebuilding effort all year long.  The team is hoping that effort – plus a few victories – can add up to a memorable basketball season.    

DALLAS – Jim Cummins hired me almost 20 years ago to work in the newly opened NBC News Dallas Bureau. 

The day I moved to Dallas, Jim invited my wife and me to have dinner with him and his wife, Connie. His pager went off. A suspension foot bridge used by hikers had collapsed in rural Arkansas, killing several and injuring dozens, according to the news desk in New York.

VIDEO: NBC Veteran Jim Cummins dies

He and I spent the next hour monopolizing the restaurant's two payphones (remember, this was before cell phones were everywhere) crowded into a small alcove, writing notes on napkins and scraps of paper with a pen I snatched from our waiter. "Welcome to the network," was all he said at the end of the evening.

From floods to fires
I was Jim's producer for a long time in Dallas. He and I did several thousand stories together before his retirement.

He dragged me, or I dragged him, all over the country chasing stories for NBC. He and I were both products of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, which could explain why we approached news coverage in the same way. Jim's straightforward, direct way of telling stories through interesting characters made coverage of even unpleasant things a little more tolerable.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of unpleasant things. Earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, tornados, fires, mass murders.

Jim called me on a Sunday morning in 1993, "Head to Waco," he said. "A guy down there has barricaded himself, and shot some federal agents. One more thing, he says he's Jesus Christ."

Two months later I stood by Jim and watched the Branch Davidian compound burn down. He was wiping tears from his eyes as he anchored an NBC News special report throughout that horrible morning.

Two years later he and I were on the last flight allowed to land in Oklahoma City after the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building. As we stood in front of the still-smoking shell of the building, Jim realized it was the anniversary of the Branch Davidian fire in Waco and immediately called the news desk which started our multi-year journey through victims' living rooms, federal and state courtrooms, and ultimately the execution of Timothy McVeigh.

One of the finest pieces of writing I have ever seen, and will probably ever see, was a long piece we did for the Today Show on the fourth anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, finding and interviewing survivors we had seen when the bombing happened. Jim let them talk, used very little narration, and to this day that spot makes me choke up.

VIDEO:  On the fourth anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, NBC' Jim Cummins speaks to survivors.

Always looking for the regular guy
After 9/11, we went on what Jim called "The Cummins military tour," we reported from 12 military bases all over the country, including the USS Enterprise in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, interviewing soldiers, sailors and Marines during the run-up to the war in Iraq.

Jim had a knack for interviewing ordinary people, one Marine told me, after Jim talked to him as he boarded a ship for the Middle East, "That big tall guy really cares about us grunts, doesn't he?"

Jim was forever looking for the common guy to put in stories. Standing in a flattened neighborhood in Oklahoma after a tornado, he told me to go find people who once lived there, because they were the only ones worthy of talking with. "No one else matters after stuff like this," he said.

Jim interviewed David Robinson of the San Antonio Spurs once. Our cameraman had to use a ladder. It was one of the only times he had to look up for an interview.

I'm still looking up to Jim Cummins.

MALIBU, Calif. –  The drive down Malibu Canyon is very familiar to me, having grown up in Southern California. I'm used to the twists and turns of the windy canyon road, as well as the brown hills, dry from the summer heat.

But on Sunday, as I approached the end of the canyon road, where you can see the outline of the Pacific Ocean, I saw black. The charred hillsides still smelled of fire. To my left, the church I passed hundreds of times on the way to the beach was gone.

Parishioners at Malibu's Presbyterian Church took a moment to reflect and give thanks on Sunday, along with many in Southern California, despite the fact that their church had been engulfed by flames and burned to the ground on live television a week earlier.

Vivian Kim / NBC News

The charred remains of Malibu's Presbyterian Church – one of the first buildings destroyed in  Southern California wildfires.

"Last week we lost our building," said Pastor Greg Hughes of Malibu Presbyterian Church, "but we have not lost our church. Thanks for proving me right."

For this packed auditorium of over 500 people, the church is a community of people, not four walls and a roof.

"Talk about being a 'beacon of light on a hill!'" said Hughes as laughter broke out and brought some levity to the group of people who had suffered a great collective loss.

For now, the Malibu Performing Arts Center is their sanctuary. On Sunday they sang, they prayed, and they gave thanks.

They made the center home by hanging up some of the notes of encouragement and prayer that had been sent in to them from all over the country. Brunch was served by friends from Bel-Air Presbyterian Church. And the local synagogue offered to share their building space for the preschool program.

Hughes encouraged his congregation to go to the building site and stand in the ashes. He reminded them that God was weeping with them and crying with them, but that out of the ashes of the church, they might glorify him up on that hill again. 

At the end of the service, he pointed to a cross on the stage. The cross was on the church's steeple and was recovered from the fire. It was a little mangled, but intact – just like the community. 

SAN DIEGO – There is a lot of buzz about the comparison between the natural disasters in the New Orleans area after Katrina and currently in Southern California – and which handled the emergency best and why.

Most of it doesn't mean much at this stage. The disaster is still unfolding here and the most controversial and testing part is still to come – the recovery.

But California has plenty to be proud of and grateful for. Much of the gratitude is owed to common folks who saw a need and stepped in – not so much government leaders.

The same was true in New Orleans. For example, the Cajun Navy just sort of instinctively materialized in the hours after the storm struck. Air boats and john boats hauled by pickups manned by people who knew they were needed and came. They saved thousands of lives and most got no credit.

Their amazing achievement was lost in the hell that New Orleans became when state and federal officials couldn't seem to do what a person with a 12-foot boat and an outboard could. Simply put – help.

Firefighters in California pulled off similar miracles soon to be forgotten. So did average volunteers who worked in the pre-dawn darkness caring for strangers at Qualcomm Stadium before heading into their day job.

California was more organized. It is, after all, much more practiced with disasters. Earthquakes and previous fires have honed the edge of preparedness here. It is also a much wealthier state and rich with voters who can make or break a candidacy. And it was quickly determined that it would be no Katrina when it came to a federal response.

You cannot compare these disasters. They are as different as water and fire. The loss of 1,300 homes in Southern California so far is awful, but pales to homes and business lost to Katrina. In St. Bernard Parish alone they lost almost five times as many. We aren't even touching New Orleans or the often overlooked Mississippi coast.

Much of Louisiana's infrastructure was compromised or destroyed. In California much of it was left intact. They could talk on phones to coordinate relief in California. They could barely find a radio to call for help after Katrina.

Qualcomm Stadium where thousands sheltered was never threatened. The Superdome was heavily damaged. It had twice to three times as many people and no electricity, no ventilation, not much food, limited security, no water, no sanitation and absolutely no information.

Then there was the loss of life.

Don't compare these disasters; that would be grossly unfair to the people of California and Louisiana.

The biggest concern is that many will – and then say, "See we have learned from Katrina and fixed what failed." If leaders believe that, then that really will be a disaster.

Check map for fire locations.

Martin Savidge has reported extensively for NBC News from New Orleans - both during Katrina and on the city's ongoing recovery. Click here to watch some of NBC News reports from New Orleans.

 SAN DIEGO – This may be a disaster – but it's still Southern California.

That was clear as I watched a dog – we think it was a pug – dressed in full biker leathers navigate his way through the crowd at the Qualcomm stadium in San Diego riding an electric Harley Davidson. (The Harley was being directed via remote control). 

Martin Savidge / NBC News

A dog rides through the Qualcomm stadium in San Diego on the back of an electric Harley Davidson.

In addition to an almost overwhelming supply of food, drink, clothing toys and any personal care item you could think of, insurance company motor homes stand in the parking lot, their generators droning, offering grilled hamburgers and the chance to file a claim all in one sitting.

And then there are services I haven't ever seen offered at a disaster evacuation site.

You can get a massage or acupuncture, join a prayer circle, eat Kosher, have something custom crocheted, attend a yoga or meditation class and even get a custom air-brushed t-shirt, all at no cost.

 SAN DIEGO – It sits in the shadow of San Diego's Qualcomm stadium – a tan blob of a tent that would look more at home on the battlefield in Iraq.

That's because it's a government tent belonging to FEMA. The interior of the tent is closed to the media. There is somberness around it almost as though it were a morgue. People go inside and emerge different than when they went in.

Evacuees go into the tent to see if they still have a home to go to.

Hanging on the walls inside are the addresses that the flames have claimed.

Every day more addresses go up and more people go in. Some emerge happy. Some come out in tears.

For those in tears  FEMA counselors wait just outside the tent, sitting at small desk chairs like in a high school classroom, hoping to help. 

SAN DIEGO – In the pre-dawn chill the lines are starting to form at San Diego's Qualcomm Stadium. They aren't Chargers fans and they aren't evacuees – they are volunteers.

Many of them signed up on-line and selected a time frame to be here. Six a.m. to 10 a.m.; 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. And so on.

They are all ages and from all walks of life. Some are students and some are between jobs. Many have day jobs and chose the early shift to help out before going to work at their regular jobs.

VIDEO:  Family's home survives unscathed by wildfires in areaÂ

Some came to escape the smoke in their neighborhoods. Some are coming from areas not threatened at the moment. Others are coming from homes that sit in harm's way, volunteering to take their minds off what they might find gone by the end of the day. 

Maria Jackson is one of them. She will pick up trash or whatever else is needed to be done for four hours before going to work as an operator for AT&T.

Last night she watched the fires looming round her home. This morning she's answering a different call. Helping others is helping her. Many standing in the volunteer line feel the same way.

RAMONA, Calif. – I know wildfires happen in Southern California. I grew up here, went to college here, and worked several years as a TV reporter here. So why is it so hard for me to believe my eyes when I see fire sweeping across this beautiful, rugged landscape at night? 

I spent most of last night in Ramona, just a couple of miles from the house I used to live in.  During the Cedar fire four years ago, flames came to the very street my house sat on, and some close friends lost the dream home they had just finished building to the roaring flames. 

When I saw these fires break out on Sunday, I asked the network to send me. My job isn't to man the fire lines, or help evacuate neighborhoods  –  it's to tell the stories of those who do and to inform the public. But for me, it's more than that. My wife and children have close friends here.  I have friends here. I love this place. 

VIDEO: Fire's effect on one neighborhood Â

So it's at once heartbreaking, and awe-inspiring to see a fire line roar up the side of a mountain slope, or race through bone dry brush. And when you've worked enough fires like this, you learn to spot the sign of a home erupting in flames beyond the next ridge line. A surge of black smoke billowing into the sky, the smell of nylon and household chemicals burning, another dream home – however humble or magnificent – lost.

This fire will eventually go out. The thousands who've lost their homes and businesses will rebuild and move on. But the memory of a fire like this lasts forever.

Check map for fire locations.

POWAY, Calif. – "It's been a long day." That was the understatement of the day from Stockton Fire Capt. Dwight Lindsey.

I linked up with Lindsey and his strike team of five engines from Stockton, Calif., in the town of Poway on Monday night. They had left Stockton after noon on Sunday, and arrived in San Diego County at 2 a.m. They went straight to work and were staring at an overnighter.

The team was assigned structure protection along Trailwind Road, a street of neat houses that unfortunately backed up to a brush-filled canyon. Fire was being pushed down the canyon by the strong Santa Ana winds that have fueled all of these fires in Southern California.

One of the hoses being dragged through backyards was manned by Tom Solorzano, a 43-year-old rookie, just four months into the job. He seemed a little scared, nervous, excited, tired, and I'm sure, he was hoping not to let his engine boss down. "It's not even tiring," he said. "This is what I want to do; I want to save this house. I'll sleep tomorrow."

Just like Lindsey predicted, the fire came roaring right up the canyon, bumping up against the fences in backyards all down Trailwind Road. Solorzano needed a little coaching, but he knocked the fire down before it scorched the house.

Then they rolled up the hose and moved onto the next block.

"House to house to house," said Lindsey. "The only thing that's keeping these guys going is adrenaline."

MALIBU, Calif – California Department of Forestry Battalion Chief Steve Shaw invited us to accompany one of his strike teams up to a ridge in the mountains above Malibu on Monday – the second day of the wildfires.

As he briefed his fire crew on what they would be doing, I was reminded of the many pre-op briefings I attended with coalition forces in Iraq. The precision and coordination of ground and air elements rivaled those of any military operation.

SLIDESHOW: Windy wildfires

The ridge where the fire teams were staging gave a magnificent view of the Malibu coast. The view was scarred however by an ugly brown blanket of smoke from the fires that refused to die.

"Don't let the lack of flames fool you," said Shaw. "The winds can kick up at any time and the flames can shoot right up."

Almost on cue, a big gust buffeted me and my crew. As we traversed a ridge, a line of smoke eaters vigilantly watched the still smoldering fire down in a canyon below as a fire crew trudged up out of the canyon to dig another firebreak carrying picks, shovels and heavy packs.

Again, they looked like a line of infantry coming back from a combat patrol. Their faces smeared with black dust. Just then, a firefighting Huey chopper swooped in low and dumped its payload of water.  "Our air support," said one firefighter. He talked into his walkie-talkie to the helicopter driver. "Keep it coming, keep it coming."

"The conditions are just perfect for a fire," said firefighter Josh Janssen. "Strong winds, totally dry – if the winds pick up, the flames can be right on top of us in no time."

As we left to file our story and feed tape, I looked back at the thin line of brave young men and women standing with their picks and shovels. They are the only thing holding this conflagration in check.

Shaw gave us a weary smile and waved farewell as he went back to directing his crew.

With wildfires raging across Southern California, it can seem that a fickle twist of fate can decide the difference between a fortunate escape and total disaster.

NBC's Dan Fleschner reports on the Today Show's live coverage of the wildfires raging across Southern California in the AllDay blog.

RANCHO BERNARDO, Calif. – "Go! Go! Go! Get out of here!"

A San Diego cop is yelling at people over the PA system in his police cruiser for people in this pricey northern suburb to leave as fast as possible. It's 4 a.m. here and a huge wall of flame is roaring in the hillside behind the houses. We're being pelted by burning embers as we take pictures of the people fleeing.

One woman tells me that she's packed very little, just her purse and some clothing and diapers for her baby, who slumbers peacefully in the kid seat belted behind her. The air is thick with smoke and ash; a good time to get out.

SLIDESHOW: Furious wildfires

Â

There are seven fires burning in San Diego County, bringing back memories of the 2003 blazes that blackened a major portion of the area and burned hundreds of homes. Everyone fears a repeat this time.

Bad and getting worse 
As our cameraman races down Interstate 15 with our tape, he phones us to report that he's stopped to get more pictures of houses burning along the side of the highway. Earlier, the community of Ramona in the hills northeast of San Diego was being evacuated but now the flames are in the city proper.

Normally, the calmest time for major woodland fires is the early morning hours, but the strong Santa Ana winds that are driving these fires just won't let up. Firefighters tell us that when the wind is roaring like this at more than 40 miles an hour, there's little they can do but to get out of the way

They're hoping that a break in the weather and some daylight will allow their aerial tanker planes and helicopters to get over the flames and beat them down somewhat. But the forecast calls for the nasty winds to continue, so the firefighters acknowledge that it's bad and not getting better.

NEW ORLEANS, La.— New Orleans tourism and convention officials are hoping they've finally turned the corner in getting the sagging industry back up on its feet.

Prior to Hurricane Katrina, some 10 million visitors traveled annually to the city. Now, after a dramatic nosedive, bookings have been solidly building throughout the year and officials are projecting that the city will have six million visitors by the end of 2007. 

The city's convention and visitors bureau has seen trends that would indicate a promising trend – more affluent visitors. While overall numbers of visitors are still down, their overall spending is up and they seem to be more civic minded as well. 

The American College of Surgeons and the International Association of Police Chiefs both helped add to the city's bottom line with large meetings this month. The American Academy of Ophthalmology will host one of the largest gatherings since the storm next month with some 25,000 attendees. 

For workers in the hospitality industry it almost seems like old times, with full hotels and packed restaurants. But it's definitely been a difficult road back.

First came the task of physical repairs to the industry's infrastructure. The city's Morial Convention Center underwent millions of dollars in renovations after serving as an impromptu shelter of last resort for thousands of people. 

Repairs to hotels have continued at a steady pace to a point where there are now 31,000 hotel rooms available, compared to 38,000 before the storm. And visitors are flying in – at the Louis Armstrong airport flight levels will be back up to over 75 percent of what they once were within the month.

And, in one of the real success stories, according to local food critic Tom Fitzmorris, there are now more restaurants open in New Orleans than there were before Katrina. No one said the recovery would be easy, but at least everyone will be well fed, an important thing for a city that prides itself on its cuisine.

Perhaps an even more difficult task had been convincing visitors to return.  A real turning point came when the American College of Cardiologists hosted a conference this past spring that brought more than 26,000 conventioneers to the city. It was the first big convention in the city post-Katrina. 

Convention organizers took a huge leap of faith to proceed with their plans. In the end though, the conference's senior director Sue Sears Hamilton said it was the right thing to do. 

"The city has always been so good to us. We felt that the college really wanted to be a part of the rebuilding of this city and the hospitality industry," said Hamilton. A lot of meeting planners were closely watching the cardiologist's convention, and when it went off without a hitch, it eased a lot of concerns.

And the cardiologists are not alone in their hopes to give back while visiting. Every convention that rolls through town offers attendees an opportunity to get out in the community and help with the rebuilding effort. 

Volunteer work, like painting schools or mowing playgrounds is now as much a part of the visitor experience in New Orleans as is a trip down Bourbon Street or a steamboat ride on the Mississippi. One convention organizer even went so far as to say that opportunities for volunteerism are a selling point in deciding whether to bring a meeting to the city.

CANTON, Ga. – Here at Lake Allatoona, about an hour northwest of Atlanta, the favorite fishing holes for anglers that had been hidden for decades are now the favored sites for men walking with metal detectors looking for lost Rolexes or rings.

At the Little River Grill, the lakeside watering hole for boaters is no longer lakeside. The water has retreated a good 100 yards. Business has also dried up. Yesterday, the owner laid off four employees.

At the nearby marina, you can drive up and fill your car at the gas dock that sits on the lakebed.

It's not a problem –  most boats are stuck on racks around here and many marinas are high and dry.

On the upside, the fish are biting because with levels down 16 feet – it's like fishing in a barrel.

Here you can dramatically see what many in the southeast are only starting to hear: the region is quickly running out of water and for the first time in U.S. history major cities are in real danger of running dry.

Traditionally, the Southeast felt it had a plentiful water supply in the form of regular rain backed up by summer tropical storms and the occasional hurricane. This year, that hasn't happened and now officials are shocked at how quickly their lakes and waterways are vanishing.

Michael Hayes of the National Drought Mitigation Center says that's because the problem is magnified by something state officials have only been too happy to promote – development.

Over the past few decades, the Southeast's population has soared. If the rains don't return, that boom could come to a shuddering halt in the next decade.

Officials only now are admitting they are facing a natural disaster as great as any hurricane or earthquake. One that seemed to sneak up as silently as the water in Lake Allatoona slipped away.  

BROWNSVILLE, Texas – Out here along the dusty banks of the Rio Grande, you can imagine how easy it is for immigrants to swim across the narrow river from Mexico, hide from the Border Patrol in the tall bushes and, if it's their lucky day, escape their past and begin a new life in the United States.

It's a scene that's played out 24 hours a day, seven days a week between the immigrants and the Border Patrol along the 800-mile long river border.

The Department of Homeland Security believes the river alone is not much of a barrier from immigrants or terrorists. The department is proposing to build a fence along portions of the river, including in and around the city of Brownsville.

People here are upset with the plan. The city will likely go to court to prevent the federal government from building the fence on city property. Mayor Pat Ahumada told me that building a wall around his city would be a huge mistake. "This is our home and this river is part of us," he said.

The mayor said security can be achieved through technology: more sensors, night scopes and cameras watching the border. He said the Border Patrol's current program to put more boots on the ground along the border is working; it has slowed illegal immigration in the Brownsville sector.

It certainly had an effect of us. NBC cameraman Bob Abrahamsen and I were stopped three times by Border Patrol agents as we drove along the dirt road that hugs the Rio Grande. They wanted to make sure our suspicious-looking white van, capable of carrying (smuggling) 15 people, was really carrying just TV gear and a couple of guys preparing a story for Nightly News.

WASHINGTON –

America's first "baby boomer" filed for Social Security benefits Monday, becoming among the first of nearly 80 million Americans born after World War II who are expected to apply for such benefits over the next two decades.

Kathleen Casey-Kirschling, 61, was born one second after midnight on Jan. 1, 1946. She becomes eligible for Social Security in two and a half months. On Monday, she completed filing electronically for the benefits before a horde of reporters and photographers at the National Press Club in Washington, D.C.

"It was great, it was great," she said afterward. "It is so user friendly, and I hope that many of my fellow boomers will take the easy way out, because applying on-line just made it much easier to go through the whole process."

Bracing for a 'silver tsunami'
Casey-Kirschling, a retired seventh grade teacher who lives on Maryland's Eastern Shore, will get her first check (for an undisclosed amount) in early February.

"I'm thrilled to think that after all these years that I'm getting paid back the money that I put in," she said.

Social Security Commissioner Michael Astrue said there's plenty of money in the system...for now.

"There's no reason to have any immediate panic," he said. "Retirement benefits right now, the funds are solvent through 2041."

And beyond then?

"I think I and most people who are really familiar with the situation are confident that there'll be some pain along the way, but we'll get there, and Social Security will be there for future generations," said Astrue.

In what's being called America's "silver tsunami," 10,000 Americans a day will become eligible for Social Security benefits over the next 20 years.

WASHINGTON – The CIA extended a rare invitation to the media to visit its Langley, Va., headquarters and view an A-12 reconnaissance plane as part of the agency's 60th anniversary celebrations last month.

The A-12, resembling a giant praying mantis, was on display in the CIA's "green" parking lot next to a large tent in which a short ceremony and reception were recently held.

The spy plane was developed in the 1960s to replace the fabled U-2. If you've never heard of the A-12, that's because it was developed, deployed, and eventually retired in secrecy.

"The goal was an aircraft that could outrun any Soviet missile," CIA Director Michael Hayden told several hundred people at the ceremony. "A long-range, radar-evading plane that would fly three miles higher, and more than four times faster, than the U-2."

Close call
Twice during test flights, pilots had to eject at less than 200 feet. Over its 10-year-history, five A-12s were lost in crashes, killing two CIA pilots and two Air Force pilots in chase planes. The photographs from the A-12's maiden operation were hand-carried by CIA analyst Tom Farrell on a commercial flight from Rochester, N.Y., to Washington, D.C.

"As fate would have it, there were 12 Cubans aboard," Hayden said. "All the way, he worried how he would get rid of this classified carry-on if the flight were hijacked to Cuba, a distinct possibility at the time."

Farrell made it through, but for all of the ballyhoo, the A-12 was in operation for less than a year, flying reconnaissance flights over North Vietnam and North Korea in 1967 and 1968. It was never used for its intended purpose of overflying the Soviet Union. Instead, it was grounded in favor of the Air Force's SR-71.

"The most advanced aircraft ever built was decommissioned after less than a year in service, not from any shortcomings in its design but because of fiscal pressures and competition between the reconnaissance programs of CIA and the Air Force," according to a booklet handed out at the ceremony.

The A-12 on view at the CIA will remain there as part of the agency's collection of historical artifacts.

 It was supposed to be a fun time, at least that what Homecomings are all about isn't it? But in little Crandon, Wisconsin, where the population doesn't even top 2,000, the fallout from a Homecoming tragedy has left this community silent and confused.

The leaves are changing and there are pumpkins on porches, but today this town mourns the loss of seven of its own. It's seven, because once off-duty deputy sheriff Tyler Peterson had finished murdering his ex-girlfriend and her friends, he was felled by a police sniper.

Peterson had gone to the party, according to residents, and was asked to leave. He returned a short time later with a rifle.  Police say he fired 30 shots, taking the lives of three high school students and three recent grads.

Today investigators are combing through the old white farmhouse where this nightmare took place. They are taking fingerprints, and circling bullet holes just like they do on big city crime shows.

Tyler Peterson  had only been with the Forest County sheriff's department a year, and the town's prosecutor says he came through the course with flying colors.

But that was then. His friends say "something must have snapped." In a town where everyone knows both the victims and the perpetrator, it may never be the same.

WASHINGTON – Justice Stephen Breyer may not be as outspoken as Justice Clarence Thomas, but he had some amusing insights into the workings of the Supreme Court this morning.

Breyer noted in a speech that he was the junior justice for 13 of his 14 years on the high court. As such, it was his duty to open the conference room door if anyone knocked.

"It was tough, you know, but I got it after awhile," he said. "In fact, one day, a couple of years ago, it was a cup of coffee for Justice [Antonin] Scalia. That's a little unusual. It's usually some papers or something.

"I handed him the coffee, and he said, 'You've been doing this quite a while now.' I said, 'Yeah, I've gotten very good at it.' He said, 'No, you haven't, actually.'"

Breyer said the atmosphere at the court is actually very collegial.

"I've never heard a voice raised in anger in that conference room," he said. "If you feel strongly, go and tell your wife how strongly you feel."

In answer to a question, Breyer said he considers Thomas a friend.

"He's a distinguished and dignified person," Breyer said, "and I think we get on well, and I think that's the way it should be."

Breyer's comments came in a speech to the National Conference on Citizenship at the National Archives.

 GEORGETOWN, Colo.– Halfway between Denver and the ski meccas of Vail and Breckenridge, the old Colorado mining town of Georgetown is stunned by the deaths of five contractors at Xcel Energy's hydroelectric plant.

Roughly 1,000 people live here full time, but the population swells when tourists come to see the gold-colored aspens in the fall and the snow in winter.

When the news first broke that workers were trapped, many residents feared a repeat of this summer's tragic mine disaster at the Crandall Canyon Mine in Huntington, Utah, where six miners were killed. 

Unfortunately those fears were realized when the five workers trapped 1,000 feet underground, who had survived an initial chemical fire at the plant, died before rescue workers could reach them.

VIDEO: Five killed at hydroelectric plant

While investigators try to determine what caused the workers' deaths, the local community is trying to come to grips with the tragedy.

Virginia Plett moved to Georgetown 11 years ago from a small town near Marseille, France. "It feels just like home," she said.

Plett and Eric Wohlfort work at the Georgetown Mountain Inn, which has been hosting a sudden influx of media from across the West and heartbroken members of this community who have stopped by.

"It brings people close together, but you just don't want this sort of thing to happen," said Plett.

Our conversation was interrupted when the phone rang. The inn's owner was calling. The Georgetown Mountain Inn would welcome the victims' families to stay there, if they liked, at no charge.

"It's the closeness of the community," Wohlfort explained. "We help each other out."

BROWNSVILLE, Texas – In the last couple of years here, officers with U.S. Customs and Border Protection have noticed a dramatic increase in the numbers of Cuban immigrants arriving from Mexico to apply for political asylum.

This fiscal year alone, officials said, more than 11,000 Cubans were processed into the United States at Texas land borders, much more than in Florida. It's widely suspected most of them arrived with the help of smugglers financed by Cuban-American families in the Miami-area.

VIDEO: An alternative route into the U.S. for Cubans

Because of a law passed during the Cold War, Cubans enjoy a unique immigration status that virtually guarantees them asylum, and eventual U.S. residency, if they can make it to U.S. soil, including a border station – even if they were smuggled.

Based on the well-known "wet foot/dry foot" policy that requires Cuban migrants caught at sea to be repatriated, but allows those who arrive on land with a "dry foot" to stay, officers along the Mexican border talk about the immigrants arriving there with a 'dusty foot."

A complex human drama
For two days recently, some colleagues and I were allowed to witness the screening process at the Brownsville Port of Entry. It's where we saw the underlying human story that's not always covered in news reports about immigration numbers, trends, techniques and political arguments.

During that time, CBP officers processed 14 Cuban immigrants, most of whom had arrived at the U.S. border in the middle of the night. Many of them appeared exhausted, and nervous. It was obvious that a lot was at stake for theme.

Among those being screened were a middle-aged man and wife, both Cuban doctors from Camaguey. Together they carried one duffle bag that contained everything they owned now. In separate locations, they were each questioned, fingerprinted and photographed. Their few possessions – including a Bible – were searched.

About an hour later, they were cleared for entry into the United States, and together they walked out the door to a new life, and huge challenges – carrying that simple duffle bag. 

On the streets of Brownsville, we spoke briefly. Their plans were to head to Florida. The story of how they got here was typical. They said they had taken a dangerous trip from southern Cuba to Mexico on a fishing boat. The woman became emotional when she described the terror of that voyage. The word she kept repeating was "horrible." 

 Back in the office, another Cuban, a young woman, took her turn being processed. She seemed very quiet. When I asked her how she was doing, she said, "Tengo miedo," – "I am afraid." She was also upset about leaving family members behind in Cuba. "It's very difficult," she said.

This young woman would soon prove, however, that she probably had the grit to flourish in her newly adopted country. The day after meeting her, NBC producer AJ Goodwin and I flew to Miami, and were surprised to find that the same Cuban woman was also on our plane. On her own, unable to speak English, she had negotiated a complicated transfer in the sprawling Houston airport. At times she seemed quite lost and confused by the procedures, but she muddled through. The last I saw her, she was headed out the door at the Miami airport. 

A different reception
While Cuban immigrants are usually cleared into the United States rather quickly – unless they have criminal records or a known serious disease – it's not the case for other immigrants arriving without proper visas. We saw that, too, at the Brownsville Port of Entry.

In an office there, behind a closed door with a window, I noticed a woman pacing nervously. Sometimes she would come up to the glass to watch the Cubans being processed by the officers.

I asked someone about her status, and was told she was from El Salvador and had tried to enter the country with phony paperwork. With no special law to protect her, the woman was being sent off to a detention facility, and would likely face deportation. 

The last I saw her she was being taken to another room by a female officer to be searched. I could only imagine what she had already gone through getting this far, to now face this. It was a thought that had nothing to do with political debate or immigration statistics. It was simply a personal reaction to the plight of another human being struggling below the headlines. 

See Mark Potter's complete report on Cuban immigration via Mexico on NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams on Monday evening.