In Southern California, a woman met a group of individuals who had recently crossed the border. This encounter soon gained unexpected attention online.

On the morning of Wednesday, August 28, just after sunrise over the San Diego mountains, Guadalupe Dukes and her grandson Gael, who is six years old, were in their car at a bus stop along California Highway 94, waiting for his school bus.

As traffic whizzed by, including some Customs and Border Protection vehicles, they chatted while waiting. Suddenly, a young woman tapped on their car window, surprising them. Dukes vividly recalls what occurred next.

When she cautiously rolled down her window, she saw the woman accompanied by four young men who appeared dusty and weary from traveling.

The woman, using broken English and gestures, asked if she could borrow Dukes’ cell phone. Dukes noticed the language spoken among the other young men wasn’t English or Spanish, which she speaks fluently.

Having lived near the border for over ten years, Dukes quickly recognized them as newly arrived migrants and speculated that they might be from Haiti or an African country due to their appearance. The young woman inquired about directions to the nearest town.

The exchange was respectful, Dukes noted. The migrants appeared tired, hungry, and somewhat bewildered. “They were obviously searching for a place to rest and seek assistance,” Dukes stated.

Dukes decided not to give her phone but guided them, to the best of her knowledge, toward the small community of Dulzura, about six miles to the west. She then cautioned them about the busy road.

“Be careful; it can be dangerous for you,” she advised. “Watch out for the buses.”

When she mentioned the word “bus,” the young woman’s face brightened.

“Bus,” she called out to her friends, who echoed the word, filled with hope. Just then, Gael’s yellow school bus arrived, pulling up near an old sofa and a weathered street sign.

Seeing the bus, the young woman blew a whistle, producing a loud sound over the din of traffic. At that moment, more migrants emerged from the nearby bushes—ten, then twelve, and eventually at least fifteen joined them, as Dukes estimated. The grandmother guided Gael toward the bus while trying to convey to the migrants:

“No, this isn’t a public bus,” she recalled telling them. “It’s a school bus. It’s not for you!”

After hearing this, the group halted their approach, Dukes recounted in an interview with YSL News at the same isolated bus stop. They did not come closer to the school bus or engage with the driver or other children. They merely stepped back.

As the bus drove off with Gael aboard, the migrants retreated into the underbrush.

Dukes entered her vehicle and drove home, reflecting on the brief encounter.

The brief interaction was over, but it soon took on a new life online.

Media outlets, school officials, local government representatives, and law enforcement officials worked together to unravel the original narrative and track its spread online.

The account from Dulzura began with some truth but, similar to many stories during an election season, it became a mix of immigration issues and potential danger, surfacing in a country already stressed about border matters.

After the bus left, various versions of the incident rapidly circulated on the internet, fueled by influencers whose statements strayed further from the actual events.

What did the school superintendent have to say?

Liz Bystedt first became aware of the incident from the school district’s maintenance and transportation director, who learned about it from Gael’s bus driver.

While sitting in a small meeting room at the Jamul-Dulzura Union School District’s headquarters, Bystedt, the superintendent since 2018, recounted the story.

The bus driver, who opted not to give an interview to YSL News, reached out to her supervisor, who then contacted Bystedt while describing her as being in a “heightened” state of distress.

Bystedt recalled, “I could hear the bus driver in the background, clearly very upset. Essentially, she reported that a group of migrants attempted to board the school bus, but I didn’t have much further information at that time.”

Realizing the potential for concern to rise, Bystedt promptly drafted an email for parents, carefully choosing her words while indicating that the district was looking into the matter.

“I will share any information I receive with you,” Bystedt conveyed. “In the meantime, for the safety of our students and bus drivers, if we encounter a group of migrants at a bus stop, we will bypass that stop and proceed to the next.”

Minutes after Bystedt’s email went out at 10:18 a.m., San Diego journalist Amy Reichert shared a screenshot of the message with her nearly 10,000 followers on X, accompanied by the siren emoji and an urgent alert: “URGENT.”

Reichert’s post echoed Bystedt’s message, amplified by the alarm emoji. “I was the first to report this story — based entirely on the information provided by the school district,” she told YSL News.

The post garnered significant attention, with over 400 shares and 646 likes, serving as the initial spark that ignited the ensuing controversy.

The Misnomer of a Migrant Encounter Labeled as Hijacking

At YSL News’s request, a research organization called Advance Democracy, Inc. examined various social media mentions related to the incident, investigating both mainstream and fringe platforms.

The first instance of someone alleging that migrants attempted to forcibly board a school bus arose in the replies to the freelance journalist’s post. A user named ScribeMoon (2,800 followers) commented:

“We have migrants from all countries here in Southern California, including many from radical Islamic regions and China. They are trying to force their way onto school buses in San Diego.”

Later that day, at 5:54 p.m. California time — less than 12 hours after the migrants had used Dukes’ cell phone — far-right influencer George Behizy shared an outrageous claim with his 380,000 followers on X:

“BREAKING: A group of illegal migrants in San Diego County attempted to hijack TWO school buses carrying elementary and middle school children from the Jamul-Dulzura Union District on Highway 94.”

He went on to blame “Border Czar Kamala” for the incident.

This post, which included a local news article that presented a much less alarming narrative, marked the first recorded use of the term “hijack” to describe the situation. It spread rapidly, accumulating more than 13,000 shares and 22,000 likes.

When interviewed by YSL News, Behizy admitted he didn’t take the time to research further before posting, relying solely on Bystedt’s statement. He asserted that his comments accurately reflected what the superintendent reported:

“A group of adult males tried to enter a school bus that wasn’t for them,” he stated. “Are you really going to read that and think, ‘Let me get more context before I react?’ When I saw it, I thought, ‘That’s really bad.’”

Behizy’s claim quickly gained traction as it was picked up by other far-right accounts such as @EndWokeness and @LibsOfTikTok, spreading the untrue hijacking narrative to their vast audiences.

The misinformation eventually reached the ears of Elon Musk himself. On the morning following the incident, at 10:43 a.m. on August 29, Musk retweeted a post from @EndWokeness, claiming a hijacking by “illegal aliens,” which led him to ask, “When is this going to be enough?”

In Jamul, Superintendent Bystedt was left shocked.

What was meant to be a brief email assuring parents and easing a tense situation instead ignited a wildfire of misinformation.

By the time Bystedt’s husband’s best friend from Boston called her home on Thursday to say he had seen her email on national news, the superintendent had already entered self-protective mode.

“For my own peace of mind, I came home on Wednesday night and told my husband, ‘Please don’t turn on the news when I’m around,’” she recounted. “I said: ‘Something has occurred, but it’s not what has been portrayed; that’s only going to infuriate me and cause more stress.’”

Bystedt expressed her frustration not only because a harmless event has been distorted into something else, but also because her team now faces the repercussions of this idle and exploitative online activity.

“It was heartbreaking because I knew the backlash was on its way,” Bystedt stated. “I was confident that I hadn’t released any incorrect information. However, someone took that information and manipulated it to suit their own political aims.”

What drives the spread of false information online?

People disseminate false information online because it gives them a sense of pleasure.

Gizem Ceylan, a postdoctoral researcher at Yale School of Management, examines the rewarding cycle that comes with sharing information on the internet. The core idea is straightforward: When individuals engage with your online posts, it triggers brain chemicals that swiftly dissipate. To replenish these chemicals, one simply needs to keep posting.

Recently, a network of “influencers” and part-time con artists has emerged, thriving on the spread of political misinformation. According to Ceylan, what encourages those within this network, no matter whether they have 19 followers or 190 million, remains the same.

“When you share something and it garners likes and retweets, it provides you with social satisfaction,” she explained. “Next time, you may post something that resembles your earlier content but perhaps add a little more flair or excitement.”

Erik Bucy, a professor of strategic communication at Texas Tech’s College of Media and Communication, mentioned that those profiting from online misinformation are also in search of acceptance within a social group.

“There’s real acknowledgment among your peers or community,” Bucy noted. “The quick bursts of dopamine and serotonin may fade, but the sense of belonging lasts longer.”

Before they realize it, social media users are not only sharing content; they are altering it, enhancing it, and creating it themselves. The content might have initially been accurate, but through degrees of imagination, exaggeration, and hyperbole, it can stray far from the original event that triggered the discussion.

Ceylan likens this process to a small game of Telephone taking place within a larger framework. Not only does the content morph as it travels from one user to another, but each participant is also reshaping their personal narrative about what transpired.

“This concept mirrors basic instrumental learning seen in animal behavior,” she added. “Animals strive to acquire food and learn to interact with their environment to achieve that goal. They start to pull a lever more vigorously over time to obtain more food.”

***

In the aftermath of the incident, amidst pressure from parents and heightened scrutiny on this isolated area of California, the Route B school bus was accompanied by various government vehicles. The local sheriff dispatched patrol cars, and a few YouTubers arrived, claiming their intent was simply to document the situation.

“We certainly made quite a scene,” Bystedt remarked.

Of the countless individuals who learned any version of the Dulzura school bus story, Dukes possesses the most profound understanding of that event.

As she stood on the roadside weeks later, Dukes mulled over her encounter with a group of migrants: Did she, in fact, feel fear?

Dukes found herself confused by the situation. The individuals she met that day appeared merely fatigued and hungry. Although there were many of them and it felt chaotic, she sensed no hostility.

But did she feel afraid?

“Yes,” she admitted. “At that moment, I did feel fear.”

Dukes has observed migrants traversing the valleys near her home for many years. She recognizes the eateries and shops they frequent and often notices them as she drives by early in the morning. They are as embedded in the environment as the dry eucalyptus trees and the silhouettes of the mountains.

However, in those fleeting moments, confronted by an unfamiliar group who could potentially be aggressive or desperate, Dukes experienced genuine apprehension.

But then, she began talking to them.

She grasped their needs. When the migrants heard the word “bus,” she noted, their expressions brightened with hope.

For Dukes, that fear evaporated as quickly as sweat in the California sun.

It was merely a brief interaction on the roadside.