TULARE, Calif. (AP) — Looking for water to flush his toilet, Tino Lozano pointed a garden hose at some buckets in the bare dirt of his yard. It’s his daily ritual now in a community built by refugees from Oklahoma’s Dust Bowl. But only a trickle came out; then a drip, then nothing more.

“There it goes,” said Lozano, a 40-year-old disabled vet, masking his desperation with a smile. “That’s how we do it in Okieville now.”

Millions of Californians are being inconvenienced in this fourth year of drought, urged to flush toilets less often, take shorter showers and let lawns turn brown. But it’s dramatically worse in places like Okieville, where wells have gone dry for many of the 100 modest homes that share cracked streets without sidewalks or streetlights in California’s Central Valley.

Farming in Tulare County brought in $8.1 billion in 2014, more than any other county in the nation, according to its agricultural commissioner. Yet 1,252 of its household wells today are dry, more than all other California counties combined.

Lozano, a 40-year-old disabled vet and family man, has worked with his neighbors to rig lines from house to house, sharing water from a well deep enough to hit the emptying aquifer below. County trucks, funded with state drought relief money, fill 2,500-gallon tanks in many yards. Residents also get containers of drinking water, stacking them in bedrooms and living rooms.

These “Third-World-type conditions” are hidden from plain sight, says Andrew Lockman, of Tulare County’s Office of Emergency Services. “It’s not an earthquake or flood where you can drive down the street and see the devastation.”

Okieville is quiet, dry and hot. Close your eyes and you’re likely to hear a rooster crow or a dog bark. Agriculture is the main employer, and for miles around, dense fields of deep green cornstalks grow as feed for dairy cows. Alfalfa, almond, oranges and grapes abound. Residents express pride in their town, and support the need for irrigation.

“They need water for the cows,” said Okieville resident and tire salesman Gilbert Arredondo. “Without dairies we wouldn’t have jobs. They produce cheese.”

For 150 years, surface canals and underground aquifers turned semi-arid regions of California green, and even in drought, the state produces most of America’s fruit, vegetables and nuts.

But the meager Sierra Nevada snowpack doesn’t replenish the rivers like it used to, and farmers are drilling ever-deeper wells to compensate for the plunge in surface water. One farm bought its own $1 million drilling rig just to ensure its supply.

So far, 15 shallower wells used by 23 homes in Okieville are depleted.

Maria Marquez, a 50-year-old widow, panicked when her shower abruptly ended in June 2014. They couldn’t afford to move, and who would buy a house without running water? Drilling her own new well would cost more than years of earnings from the food truck where she works.

Unlike Lozano, who rents his home, Marquez was eligible as a homeowner to get a tank installed for washing and flushing, to be filled each Monday by a county truck, as well as bottled water for drinking and cooking through California’s $3.7 billion drought relief program, which includes $38 million for drinking water and tanks.

“It’s our home,” said her daughter Judy Munoz, 26. “She doesn’t want to leave it behind.”

Her neighbor Christine Dunlap, 72, is among the few left with Dust Bowl roots. As with other “Okieville” communities in California, the hundreds of thousands of Midwesterners who migrated west in the 1930s were mostly replaced by migrants from Mexico after the camps evolved into permanent communities.

“We’ve got used to it,” said Dunlap, whose 170 foot-deep well ran dry in February. She’s still got family, she said, so “we consider ourselves lucky.”

California became the last state in the West to regulate groundwater when Gov. Jerry Brown signed legislation ending a Gold Rush-era policy that generally let property owners take as much as they wanted. A $7.5 billion water bond measure also approved in 2014 includes $2.7 billion to boost water storage.

But sustainable alternatives remain years away, and the groundwater supplying nearly 60 percent of the state’s needs in dry years is being used up like never before.

Seeking a solution for problems in Okieville, 5 miles outside of Tulare, Maria Marquez welcomed Maria Herrera, an organizer for the nonprofit Self-Help Enterprises, who brought a team of engineers and a lawyer to address about 50 people gathered in her dirt yard. “We have a lot of important items to talk about tonight,” began Herrera.

As the night wore on, consensus seemed to grow around forming their own water district, and applying for state and federal grants to pay for two 500-foot deep wells costing about $2 million. Monthly water bills would be about $50, and everyone would get reliable water — at least until the surrounding farms dig deeper.

It would take at least two years to design and build it before water flows, engineer Owen Kubit explained.

“I don’t think we can last this summer without no water,” Arredondo said.

Others nod in frustration.

“We can pray for rain,” Kubit said.

Marquez does pray, kneeling alongside one of her granddaughters after the girl’s nightly bath.

“God, give us water so we don’t have to move,” the 4-year-old says, pressing her palms together. “God, please fill up our tank, so we don’t run out of water.”

—————

Associated Press video journalist Raquel Dillon and photographer Greg Bull in Tulare and reporter Alicia Chang in Los Angeles contributed to this story.

TULARE, Calif. (AP) — Looking for water to flush his toilet, Tino Lozano pointed a garden hose at some buckets on the bare dirt of his yard. It’s his daily ritual now, in a community built by refugees from Oklahoma’s epic Dust Bowl drought. But only a trickle came out; then a drip, then nothing more.

“There it goes. That was all,” said Lozano, masking his desperation with a smile. “That’s how we do it in Okieville now.”

Living with a dried-up well has turned one of life’s simplest tasks into a major chore for Lozano, a 40-year-old disabled Army veteran and family man.

Millions of Californians are being inconvenienced in this fourth year of drought, urged to flush toilets less often, take shorter showers and let lawns turn brown. But it’s dramatically worse in places like Okieville, where wells have gone dry for many of the 100 modest homes that share narrow, cracked streets without sidewalks or streetlights in a dry corner of California’s Central Valley.

Farming in Tulare County brought in $8.1 billion in 2014, more than any other county in the nation, according to its agricultural commissioner. Yet 1,252 of its household wells today are dry — more than all other California counties combined.

It’s particularly alarming in Lozano’s neighborhood, where at least 15 domestic wells used by 23 homes have dried up.

Some neighbors rig lines from house to house to share water from the remaining wells deep enough to hit the emptying aquifer below. Others benefit from state drought relief that pays for trucked-in water to fill 2,500-gallon tanks in their yards, and boxes of drinking water that get stacked in bedrooms and living rooms.

Lozano watches his sons kick a soccer ball in front of their rented home while waiting on his neighbors to free up the next few drops. He pays $50 a month to join five other homes sharing a makeshift water system that taps into a well a half-mile away.

These short-term fixes are akin to “Third-World-type conditions,” says Andrew Lockman, who runs Tulare County’s Office of Emergency Services. He calls it a long-term, hidden disaster now becoming evident in kitchen sinks and bathrooms.

“It’s not an earthquake or flood where you can drive down the street and see the devastation,” Lockman said.

Vacant lots are strewn with junk in Okieville. Close your eyes and you’re likely to hear a rooster crow or a dog bark. There’s a convenience store about a mile away, but no church or school. People here like the rural life, and proudly call it home.

For miles around, farmers grow dense fields of deep green cornstalks, to be chopped up as feed for dairy cows. Alfalfa, almond, oranges and grapes abound. Industrial agriculture is the main employer, providing jobs in surrounding farms and dairies.

“Everybody has to work,” said Gilbert Arredondo, an Okieville resident who sells tires. “They need water for the cows. Without dairies we wouldn’t have jobs. They produce cheese.”

For 150 years, irrigation from surface canals and underground aquifers turned Tulare and other naturally semi-arid regions of California green. And despite the drought, California still produces most of America’s fruits, vegetables and nuts.

But the meager Sierra Nevada snowpack no longer replenishes the rivers like it used to, and farmers are drilling ever-deeper wells to compensate for the plunge in surface water. Field workers who earn just enough to feed their families can’t afford to compete, and drillers are booked for months in any case. One farm bought its own $1 million drilling rig just to ensure its supply.

Maria Marquez, a 50-year-old widow, panicked when the stream of water in her shower turned to air in June 2014. Then she got busy working on a solution, for herself and for Okieville, which is located 5 miles outside of Tulare and is formally named Highland Acres.

She sent her adult daughters to shower at the homes of friends and relatives. Her granddaughter Yaritza, now 4, went to live with her other grandmother.

Marquez couldn’t afford to move, and who would buy a house without running water? Drilling her own new well would cost more than years of earnings from the food truck where she serves dairy workers.

“People who have money have working wells,” Marquez said, “but those of us who don’t, we’re fighting.”

She called a help line. As a homeowner, she was eligible to get a large water tank installed outside for washing and flushing, to be filled every Monday by a county truck, as well as bottled water for drinking and cooking. California’s $3.7 billion drought relief program, which includes $38 million for drinking water and tanks, mostly pays for it all.

Her neighbors Francisco and Faviola Zuniga found another supply, running a hose from their mobile home through several other properties to a well hundreds of feet away. After horses stomped on it, they repaired the hose and buried it in the sandy soil.

Even so, the water turns scalding hot from the sun. So Francisco Zuniga, who struggles to find work delivering cattle feed, showers in the darkness, when the water runs cooler, and keeps a full bucket nearby.

“The other day, shaving, the water stopped,” he said. “No pressure.”

Farmworker Jose Vazquez also relies on a hose from a neighbor’s well, and no longer gets enough to sustain his homegrown onions, garlic, cilantro, squash and chilies.

“Now, we have to buy everything,” said Vazquez. “When I don’t work, I feel sad. There’s nothing to do. I’m bored because I don’t have a garden.”

Marquez speaks very little English and never saw herself as an activist, but she has paid half the 30-year mortgage on a house she loves. She began urging neighbors to attend meetings in her yard. Some whose wells still deliver won’t come, but the numbers are growing.

“It’s our home,” said her daughter Judy Munoz, 26. “She doesn’t want to leave it behind.”

Their neighbor, Christine Dunlap, is among the few left with Dust Bowl roots. As with other “Okieville” communities in California — there’s one in Stockton, another in Bakersfield — the hundreds of thousands of Midwesterners who migrated west in the 1930s were replaced by migrants from Mexico after the camps evolved into permanent communities.

The 72-year-old with curly bangs and a ponytail proudly shows off a family portrait of her father Andrew Jackson Shahan before he followed his brothers to California and found a living milking cows. “My daddy’s on a bicycle when they was back in Oklahoma,” she drawls.

Dunlap still lives in the white house with blue trim her father-in-law built in the 1940s, and little seems to have changed in all those years, until her 170-foot well ran dry in February.

Now two huge tanks take up her front yard, sustaining seven family members.

“With a tank like this, at least we can take showers,” she said. “Lot better than what we did before, not have nothing but barrels.”

Dunlap suspected trouble was coming when her neighbors’ wells failed. She let her grass die after noticing sand in the water. Then, when she got up to make coffee one morning, her faucet ran dry.

Her family scrambled. A neighbor shared enough water for them to flush toilets and take “birdbaths,” using a bucket and a cup, until the tanks were delivered.

“We’ve got used to it,” Dunlap said. “I’ve still got my family. We can’t do a lot of things we used to do. We consider ourselves lucky.”

The state also pays for drinking water, but her family missed a month’s supply after she made a mistake on a form, and she could hardly afford to buy her own at $3 a flat. She worked 25 years at Burger King, but has been on disability since a box of frozen French fries fell on her leg.

California became the last state in the West to regulate groundwater when Gov. Jerry Brown signed legislation ending a Gold Rush-era policy last year that generally let property owners take as much as they wanted. A $7.5 billion bond measure also approved in 2014 is designed to update the state’s water infrastructure, with $2.7 billion directed at storing more water in wet years.

But sustainable alternatives remain years away as local agencies devise new rules, and the groundwater supplying nearly 60 percent of the state’s needs in dry years is being used up like never before, leaving the people of Okieville to take matters into their own hands.

“We have a lot of important items to talk about tonight,” began Maria Herrera an organizer at Self-Help Enterprises, a nonprofit guiding Okieville to a permanent fix. She switched between English and Spanish as about 50 people, the largest crowd yet, settled into folding chairs, benches and barstools in Marquez’s dirt yard.

A lawyer and a team of water engineers discussed options; consensus seemed to grow around forming a water district to apply for state and federal grants to pay for two 500-foot deep wells costing about $2 million. Monthly water bills would be about $50, providing reliable water for all, at least until the surrounding farms dig deeper.

It would take at least two years to design and built it before water flows, engineer Owen Kubit said.

“I don’t think we can last this summer without no water,” Arredondo said.

Others nod in frustration.

“All I can say is we’re going to be doing everything we can,” Herrera said.

Kubit said a wet winter — if and when one comes — could bring some relief.

“We can pray for rain,” the engineer said.

Marquez does pray, kneeling alongside one of her granddaughters after the girl’s nightly bath. Leaving home was traumatic for the girl. She returned once the tank was installed, but the drought still worries her.

“God, give us water so we don’t have to move,” the 4-year-old says, pressing her palms together. “God, please fill up our tank, so we don’t run out of water.”

————

Associated Press video journalist Raquel Dillon and photographer Greg Bull in Tulare and reporter Alicia Chang in Los Angeles contributed to this story.

CAIRO (AP) — An Egyptian court sentenced three Al-Jazeera English journalists to three years in prison on Saturday for broadcasting “false news,” sparking an international outcry and underlining how authorities are trampling over free speech just over a year into general-turned-politician Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi’s presidency.

The men are now seeking a pardon from el-Sissi, who has personally expressed regret over the long-running trial and the damage it has done to Egypt’s international reputation — saying it would have been better to simply deport the journalists. Al Jazeera said it will also appeal the verdict, once the court releases its full ruling in the next 30 days.

Canadian national Mohammed Fahmy, Australian journalist Peter Greste and Egyptian producer Baher Mohammed’s case had embroiled their work into the wider political conflict between Egypt and Qatar, where Al-Jazeera is based, following the 2013 military ouster of Islamist President Mohammed Morsi.

The verdict comes just weeks after el-Sissi issued a new anti-terrorism law, which sets a sweeping definition for who could face a harsh set of punishments, including journalists who don’t toe the government line. The new law, like Saturday’s verdict, has drawn criticism from diplomats, press freedom advocates and human rights organizations.

Greste, who was deported from Egypt in February, said he believed an Egyptian appeals court would overturn the verdict, and called on el-Sissi to pardon him and his colleagues. Fahmy and Mohammed, both on hand for Saturday’s hearing, were immediately taken away by police after the hearing.

“In the absence of any evidence of wrongdoing, the only conclusion that we can come to is that this verdict was politically motivated,” Greste told reporters in Sydney on Sunday. “President Sissi now has an opportunity to undo that injustice. The eyes of the world are on Egypt.”

Mostefa Souag, Al-Jazeera’s acting director-general, also criticized the verdict, saying it “defies logic and common sense.”

“The whole case has been heavily politicized and has not been conducted in a free and fair manner,” Souag said in a statement. “There is no evidence proving that our colleagues in any way fabricated news or aided and abetted terrorist organizations and at no point during the long drawn out retrial did any of the unfounded allegations stand up to scrutiny.”

Judge Hassan Farid, in his ruling, said he sentenced the men to prison because they had not registered with the country’s journalist syndicate. He also said the men brought in equipment without security officials’ approval, had broadcast “false news” on Al-Jazeera and used a hotel as a broadcasting point without permission.

Fahmy’s wife, Marwa, broke down in tears as the verdict was read out, with others sobbing in the courtroom.

“I am asking for justice, for fairness,” she said while leaving the court. “I feel extremely disappointed because I love my country and I know that Mohammed loves his country. … It’s really hard for us.”

Human rights lawyer Amal Clooney, who represented Fahmy on Saturday, said she would be meeting with Egyptian officials later in the day along with Canadian Ambassador Troy Lulashnyk to press for a presidential pardon.

“The verdict today sends a very dangerous message in Egypt,” Clooney said. “Journalists can be locked up for simply doing their job, for telling the truth and reporting the news. And it sends a dangerous message that there are judges in Egypt who will allow their courts to become instruments of political repression and propaganda.”

“We are now going to be holding in Cairo a series of meetings with government officials where we will be asking for a pardon, in this case, and if a pardon is not immediately available then deportation to Canada,” she said.

Egypt regularly pardons convicts, especially around national and religious holidays. During this summer’s holy month of Ramadan, for example, authorities pardoned 165 people arrested for breaking a much-decried law banning unauthorized protests.

Lulashnyk said Canada was deeply disappointed by the outcome and would push for Fahmy’s freedom.

“We are calling for (Fahmy’s) full and immediate release and his return to Canada, and this is now the time for the government to make that happen,” he said.

The case began in December 2013, when Egyptian security forces raided the upscale hotel suite used by Al-Jazeera at the time to report from Egypt. The journalists began using the hotel as a base of operations after the Al-Jazeera English office near Tahrir Square was raided by police. Authorities arrested Fahmy, Greste and Mohammed, later charging them with allegedly being part of Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood, which authorities have declared a terrorist organization, and airing falsified footage intended to damage national security.

Morsi, Egypt’s first democratically elected president, was removed from power by the military in July 2013 after mass public protests against his rule. Since Morsi’s ouster, Egypt has cracked down heavily on his supporters, and the journalists were accused of being mouthpieces for the Brotherhood. Al-Jazeera and the journalists have denied the allegations, saying they were simply reporting the news.

At the time of the journalists’ arrests, Qatar and Egypt had been increasingly at odds over Doha’s support of Islamist groups and the Brotherhood. In the time since, Qatar, which funds Al-Jazeera, has expelled some Brotherhood members and made overtures toward easing tensions with Egypt, though the Qatari government continues to support some Islamists in the region.

At trial, prosecutors used news clips about an animal hospital with donkeys and horses, and another about Christian life in Egypt, as evidence the journalists broke the law. Defense lawyers — and even the judge — dismissed the videos as irrelevant.

Nonetheless, the three men were convicted on June 23, 2014, with Greste and Fahmy sentenced to seven years in prison and Mohammed to 10 years for being found with a spent bullet casing. That ruling was later overturned on appeal by Egypt’s Court of Cassation, which said the initial proceedings were marred by violations of the defendants’ rights, but a retrial was ordered.

Three Egyptian students accused of supporting the Brotherhood with propaganda and video footage were also sentenced to three years each in the verdict, while two other people were acquitted.

On Saturday, Mohammed received an additional six months for being in possession of a “bullet,” according to the text of the court decision carried by the Egyptian state news agency MENA. It wasn’t immediately clear why Saturday’s verdict referred to a “bullet,” rather than a spent bullet casing.

The case has brought a landslide of international condemnation and calls for el-Sissi, who as military chief led the overthrow of Morsi, to intervene. Egypt deported Greste in February, though he remained charged in the case. Fahmy and Mohammed were later released on bail.

Fahmy was asked to give up his Egyptian nationality by Egyptian officials in order to qualify for deportation. It’s not clear why he wasn’t deported, though Fahmy said he thinks Canada could have pressed Cairo harder on the matter.

Angered by Al-Jazeera’s handling of the case, Fahmy has filed a lawsuit in Canada seeking $100 million from the broadcaster, saying that it put the story ahead of employee safety and used its Arabic-language channels to advocate for the Brotherhood. Al-Jazeera has said Fahmy should seek compensation from Egypt.

The European Union and the Committee to Protect Journalists criticized the verdict as well, with the advocacy group saying it was “emblematic of the threats faced by journalists in Egypt,” where it says at least 22 journalists are wrongfully behind bars.

———

Associated Press writer Kristen Gelineau in Sydney contributed to this report.

BANGKOK (AP) — Thai authorities arrested a foreign man they said had been holed up in a suburban apartment with bomb-making equipment and stacks of passports, the first possible breakthrough in the deadly bombing at a Bangkok shrine nearly two weeks ago.

Police and soldiers on Saturday raided the apartment in a non-descript concrete building on the outskirts of eastern Bangkok and found bomb-making materials that matched those used in the Aug. 17 blast at the Erawan Shrine in central Bangkok, police said.

The blast, which killed 20 people and injured more than 120, was followed a day later by another explosion at a public ferry pier, which caused no injuries but exacerbated concerns about safety in the Thai capital, which draws millions of tourists.

“Our preliminary investigation shows that he is related to both bombings,” national police spokesman Prawuth Thavornsiri said in the televised statement. He showed photographs of the suspect — a young man with short brown hair and a light beard and mustache. Police identified him only as a 28-year-old foreigner, without releasing a name.

Police also showed photographs of detonators, ball bearings and a metal pipe that they believe was intended to hold a bomb.

“The bomb materials are the same, similar or the same type” as those used in both bombings, police chief Somyot Poompanmoung told reporters. He added that the suspect had traveled in and out of Thailand since January 2014.

Police also found “a number of passports from one country,” Prawuth said. He did not name the country, but photographs showed stacks of passports that were similar to those from Turkey.

Earlier, Prawuth said that authorities had not yet determined his nationality and dismissed Thai news reports saying he is Turkish. Images of a Turkish passport with the apparent suspect’s picture were posted on social media.

“The passport you see is fake,” said Prawuth, referring to the online photos. “We don’t know if he is Turkish or not.”

A Turkish government spokesman said he had no information on the suspect held or any possible Turkish link to the attack. He spoke on condition of anonymity in line with Turkish government rules that bar officials from speaking to journalists without prior authorization.

Asked what could be the motive for the bombing, the police chief told reporters, “it’s a personal grudge .. not international terrorism.” He did not elaborate or give a clear explanation.

The man faced charges of possessing unauthorized explosives, Prawuth said, and was taken to a military base for further interrogation.

The blast at the Erawan Shrine was unprecedented in the Thai capital, where smaller bombs have been employed in domestic political violence over the past decade, but not in an effort to cause large-scale casualties.

The shrine is a popular tourist destination, particularly with Chinese visitors, who are an important segment of the lucrative tourist market. At least six of the dead were from China and Hong Kong. It sits on the corner of a busy traffic intersection with a nearby overhead walkway in a neighborhood full of upscale shopping malls and five-star hotels.

No one has claimed responsibility for the blast, sparking a variety of theories into who might be behind it.

Possible suspects include parties seeking to avenge Thailand’s forced repatriation of ethnic Uighurs to China. Uighurs are related to Turks, and Turkey is home to a large Uighur community.

Other theories included Muslim separatists from southern Thailand, opponents of Thailand’s military government and feuding factions within the security services.

Soon after the bombing, police released an artist’s sketch of a man seen in a security camera video leaving a backpack at a bench then walking away from the open-air shrine. A separate camera showed the man, wearing a yellow T-shirt, on the back of a motorcycle taxi leaving the site.

The man seen in the video was believed to have carried out the bombing, which police said was likely planned by a group of people. They indicated in Saturday’s news conference that the man arrested was not the bomber seen in the video.

“We believe he is a culprit in the same network. More details will be given later,” Prawuth said.

Police have been criticized for releasing conflicting statements and rapidly hosing down the crime scene at the shrine before all forensic evidence was recovered. Many accused authorities of rushing to clean up the bomb scene to reassure the public — especially foreign tourists — that security in the city was back to normal.

Police say they have been handicapped by low-quality and broken surveillance cameras and a lack of sophisticated image-processing equipment to clarify the fuzzy images in security videos, which were the only firm evidence they had.

———

Associated Press journalists Papitchaya Boonngok in Bangkok and Suzan Fraser in Istanbul contributed to this report.

SAN DIEGO (AP) — A shark that was seen circling kayakers has led lifeguards to close a San Diego County beach.

A 1 1/2-mile stretch of beach from La Jolla Cove to Scripps Pier was closed Saturday afternoon after a confirmed sighting of the 8- to 10-foot hammerhead shark.

San Diego Fire-Rescue spokesman Lee Swanson said the shark appeared to be acting aggressively toward a group of kayakers and followed them into shore.

Lifeguards reviewed a video taken by a kayaker of the shark and ordered the beach closed. A marine biologist at the nearby Scripps Institution of Oceanography confirmed that the size, species and behavior of the shark warranted the closure.

Swanson said there have been no additional sightings. Lifeguards will reassess the water Sunday morning to decide whether to reopen the beach.

The on-air shooting deaths of Virginia TV reporter Alison Parker and cameraman Adam Ward and the suicide five hours later of gunman Vester Flanagan played out in a sort of surreal time, spilling from TV screens within range of the Roanoke station’s signal to horrified viewers the world over via social media. Five hours of horror, delivered in electronic bursts.

Here’s how it unfolded from when the “Mornin'” show crew arrived for work Wednesday until Flanagan, who was fired from the station two years earlier, shot himself on Interstate 66 about 200 miles away.

———

4:17 a.m.: “@KimberlyWDBJ Congrats to our awesome @WDBJMornin producer Melissa Ott on her new job in Charlotte. We will miss you!”

WDBJ morning anchor Kimberly McBroom tweets a picture of Ott. It is her last day at the station. Ott, Ward’s fiancee, is moving to a job in a bigger market in North Carolina. Ward brings flowers. Parker brings balloons. McBroom brings the cake.

After a brief celebration, everyone goes to work.

5 a.m.: The “Mornin'” show starts.

5:10 a.m.: Parker and Ward have their first live segment from an outdoor shopping center in Moneta, about 45 minutes outside town. They are doing a feature on the tourist community of Smith Mountain Lake.

6:12 a.m.: “@KimberlyWDBJ Next year marks @smlchamber 50th anniversary! @AParkerWDBJ7 is live with how they’re already planning to celebrate.”

McBroom teases the live crew’s story of the day. She often tweets during program breaks. Sometimes she promotes what is coming up. Sometimes the messages are more personal, like happy birthday to a co-worker.

6:45 a.m.: Some 40,000 viewers watch Parker’s last scheduled live spot interviewing Vicki Gardner, executive director of the Smith Mountain Lake Chamber of Commerce. Among them is Franklin County Sheriff Bill Overton. He knows Parker and Ward, having done a live shot with them a few weeks earlier.

Gardner talks about bringing in tourists. Ward pans the camera out toward the lake and a miniature golf course before bringing it back to a tight shot of Parker interviewing Gardner.

6:46 a.m.: Eight shots ring out on air. Parker looks panicked, screams and runs. Ward’s camera falls, catching a brief glimpse of a gunman in dark clothing.

Ott sees the whole thing unfold from the control room. The feed quickly switches back to McBroom at the anchor desk. She looks stunned for just a moment, then regains her composure.

“OK. Not sure what happened there. We will of course let you know as soon as we find out what those sounds were from,” she says, sending the show to commercial.

“Like many others watching this morning’s broadcast, I couldn’t understand myself what was happening at the time,” the sheriff says later.

Ward’s camera is still rolling. It shows an empty boardwalk, with his arm in the shot.

Back at the station, the staff hears emergency crews arrive over the feed from the camera. Someone at the scene says, “Three down.”

7:03 a.m.: “@WDBJ7 We are trying to figure out what just happened — thank you for all your concern and kind words.”

The station has begun its regular airing of “This Morning” on CBS.

7:12 a.m.: A local viewer who captured WDBJ’s video of the shooting posts it to Twitter and Facebook. It spreads quickly, starting with television reporters in other markets.

8:26 a.m.: A 23-page fax from Flanagan arrives at ABC News in New York, detailing his reasons for the killings. In it, Flanagan writes he admires other mass killers and felt discriminated against all his life because he was a gay black man. He writes: “I’ve been a human powder keg for a while . just waiting to go BOOM!!!!”

8:45 a.m.: WDBJ breaks into programming. General Manager Jeffrey Marks said it is his “very, very sad duty to report” Parker and Ward are dead.

9:31 a.m.: “@chrishurstwdbj She was the most radiant woman I ever met. And for some reason she loved me back. She loved her family, her parents and her brother.”

Parker’s boyfriend, WDBJ evening anchor Chris Hurst, sends four tweets. One is a picture of them together. He calls their nine-month relationship the best time of their lives. He writes he is numb.

Hurst said he made Parker a smoothie and scrambled eggs for breakfast. He would see her when he came home from the evening show and she was getting ready for the morning show. Her last text to him was “good night sweet boy.”

About 10:05 a.m.: Flanagan calls ABC News and admits to the killings. He says authorities are “after me” and “all over the place” and hangs up. ABC immediately alerts investigators to the fax.

10:08 a.m.: Virginia Gov. Terry McAuliffe starts his “Ask The Governor” segment on WTOP-FM in Washington with an update saying the shooter was a disgruntled employee and police were in pursuit.

10:17 a.m.: The first tweets are made with Flanagan’s name and car from information heard over the Virginia State Police’s radio system.

Flanagan leaves his Ford Mustang at Roanoke Regional Airport and heads up Interstate 81 in a rental car. He sends a text to a friend saying he did something stupid. Scanner traffic from that morning had police trying to track him based on what cellphone towers were being used by his iPhone.

10:24 a.m.: “@WTOP An update on the pursuit from #VA Gov.: State Police are right behind the suspected shooter, have his license plate.”

WTOP’s tweet came just after McAuliffe says on the radio show that an arrest in the shooting is “imminent.” State police send out a news release clarifying they weren’t in a chase with Flanagan.

Virginia State Police have now realized Flanagan has switched cars. They issue a bulletin on his rental car over their radio network. Twitter users listening to the scanner traffic available on the Internet share that information. It is widely retweeted. It also leads to a rash of tweets and media reports giving his first name as “Lester” rather than “Vester.”

10:26 a.m.: “@WDBJ7 Vicki Gardner of the Smith Mountain Lake Chamber of Commerce was hurt in the shooting. We are told she is in surgery. “

Gardner is recovering from being shot in the back.

About 11 a.m.: State police issue a frame grab of the shooter taken from WDBJ’s footage. It shows him aiming a pistol toward Ward’s camera on the ground.

“Is he coming to the station?” assistant news director Greg Baldwin later tells ABC about what was going through his head once he realized the suspect’s identity. “Is he coming to the station to kill us all?”

11:09 a.m.: “@bryce—williams7 Alison made racist comments”

Flanagan makes the first of several tweets from an accounting using his on-air name of Bryce Williams.

11:09 a.m.: “@bryce—williams7 EEOC report filed”

11:10 a.m.: “@bryce—williams7 They hired her after that???”

11:11 a.m.: “@bryce—williams7 Adam went to hr on me after working with me one time!!!”

11:11 a.m.: “@bryce—williams7 I filmed the shooting see Facebook”

11:15 a.m.: Two videos arrive within a minute of each other on the Bryce Williams page. They show the beginning and end of the shooting from the gunman’s perspective. The same video in a single continuous shot is posted to Williams’ Facebook page.

The gunman quietly walks up to the interview. He points his gun at Parker. He is breathing heavy and quietly curses her. She doesn’t look his way and continues to interview Gardner.

He turns to Ward. He waits 20 seconds for Ward to pan back to Parker. He points his gun at the reporter and fires. She screams and runs as eight quick shots are heard. The picture goes black.

At least seven more ring out, more methodically now.

11:30 a.m.: A machine that can read license plates on cars as they drive alerts a Virginia state trooper to Flanagan’s rented Chevrolet Sonic. She follows the silver sedan on Interstate 66 approaching Washington and verifies the tag number.

Backup arrives and they turn on their blue lights and try to pull Flanagan over. He refuses to stop. His car swerves and crashes.

Police find two Glock pistols, three license plates and a wig in the vehicle.

11:35 a.m.: “@wattsupbrent Our #WDBJ crew was literally ambushed this morning. Please DO NOT share, or post the video.”

WDBJ chief meteorologist Brent Watts’ plea is retweeted more than 2,000 times. Flanagan’s videos are on Twitter and Facebook less than an hour before both sites delete them. But the videos still rapidly spread. The autoplay feature on the social media sites start the clips without some people even clicking.

11:48 a.m.: “WDBJ7 #BREAKING: Man suspected of killing two WDBJ7 employees kills himself on I-66 in Fauquier Co.”

Media outlets later retract the report. Flanagan had a weak pulse and was rushed to a hospital.

1:13 p.m.: Watts retweets a picture taken by a station photographer of the cabinet where Ward kept his camera gear. Above the cabinet is yellow tape that says “Adam 7.”

“@wattsupbrent May this tape NEVER be removed. RT @Photog—Josh: #WDBJ7″

1:26 p.m.: Flanagan dies at Inova Fairfax Hospital near Washington. An autopsy determines he killed himself with a gunshot to the head.

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4:36 a.m. Thursday: “@KimberlyWDBJ Preparing for a very difficult @WDBJ7Mornin broadcast. But I am strengthened by your love and condolences. We will get through this together.”

6:45 a.m.: With Ott’s balloons and flowers still in the newsroom, the “Mornin'” show holds a moment of silence. McBroom holds hands with the longtime morning weather man and an anchor from a visiting station.

12:20 p.m.: “@KimberlyWDBJ This has been the toughest day of my career, but I will carry on for @AParkerWDBJ7 and Adam @dowork88. I miss and love you both so much.”

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Collins can be reached at http://twitter.com/JSCollinsAP