The father, James Boldt, converted to Judaism in 2004 and wants the boy to be circumcised as part of the faith. The mother, Lia Boldt, appealed to the high court, saying the operation could harm her son physically and psychologically.

The state Supreme Court ruled that earlier court decisions failed to determine whether the boy wanted the circumcision, as his father contended, or opposed it, as his mother alleged.

The Supreme Court sent the case back to the trial court to answer that question.

If the trial court finds the child agrees to be circumcised, the Supreme Court said, it should deny the mother's requests. But if the trial court finds the child opposes the circumcision, the court has to determine if it will affect the father's ability to care for the child.

The custody dispute began when the child was 4 and the circumcision issue began three years ago when he was 9.

James Boldt, a lawyer, is representing himself, had no comment, his office said. The attorney for both sides also declined to comment.

The case has drawn attention from Jewish groups concerned that the Oregon court might restrict the practice. A group called Doctors Opposing Circumcision backs the mother.

The courts have steered clear of religious or medical issues, focusing on the questions of custody and care of the child.

One constitutional law professor who has been following the case called it "a reasonable ruling."

"I think what may be delicate and tricky is ... how much we can trust what the 12-year-old says, given the circumstances," said Carl Tobias of the University of Richmond. "He likely feels some pressure from (his parents)."

More than a million U.S. infants are circumcised each year, but circumcising adults or teens remains relatively rare. A urologist who met with the boy submitted an affidavit that said the procedure would cause him minor discomfort for about three days but not interfere with his normal activities, the Supreme Court's decision said.

The case has dragged in the courts since it was filed in March 2003.

"This appeal took two years," said Kathy Henry, one of the plaintiffs. "We're glad about the appeals court ruling, but it's been cruel to make residents wait this long."

A spokesman for Dow said the company is reviewing the opinion.

"We continue to believe that the trial court erred in granting class certification," Scot Wheeler said. "Among other things, the trial court ignored evidence that upwards of one-third of the residential properties sampled showed no contamination."

Since the lawsuit was filed, hot spots of dioxin have been found in the Saginaw River.

An earlier ruling in the case dismissed the residents' demand to make Dow pay for medical monitoring for potential health problems.

Dow contends a University of Michigan study shows that people who live in contaminated areas do not show higher levels of dioxin in their blood than people who don't live near the river.

"I am grateful for the opportunity to have worked with so many gifted people and am looking forward to my next venture," Regan, who filed a $100 million defamation suit last November, said in a statement.

Regan's ReganBooks imprint at HarperCollins published a long list of racy best sellers, including Jose Canseco's "Juiced" and Jenna Jameson's "How to Make Love Like a Porn Star." But she was fired in December 2006, less than a month after Murdoch canceled her plans to publish O.J. Simpson's allegedly fictional murder confession, "If I Did It." The book and a companion Fox television interview were greeted with widespread public outrage.

"Ms. Regan is a talented publisher who created many award-winning and best-selling books during her twelve and a half years at the company," the company said in a statement. "News Corp. thanks Ms. Regan for her outstanding contributions and wishes her continued success."

At the time of her firing, when she still had more than two years on her contract, News Corp. alleged that Regan made anti-Semitic comments to a company lawyer during an angry telephone conversation.

"This charge was completely fabricated," according to Regan's lawsuit.

"After carefully considering the matter, we accept Ms. Regan's position that she did not say anything that was anti-Semitic in nature, and further believe that Ms. Regan is not anti-Semitic," News Corp. said Friday.

Regan had also accused her former employers of asking her to lie to federal investigators about Bernard Kerik, the former New York City police commissioner who was once her lover, and had tried to smear her.

Regan said the smear campaign stems from her past intimate relationship with Kerik, who was police commissioner under former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, and from the political agenda of News Corp.

Giuliani, a Republican, appointed Kerik police commissioner and recommended him to President Bush for secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Kerik had to withdraw his nomination after it was revealed he had not reported the wages he paid to a nanny. He was indicted last November, days before Regan filed her lawsuit, on counts including accusations of lying to the White House and filing false income tax returns. He has pleaded not guilty to the charges.

Flatsigned Press Inc., a book publisher based in Nashville, Tenn., says Imus insulted the company last year in ads it paid for to promote a book by Ford on the Warren Commission's investigation into the 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

On his "Imus in the Morning" show, the talker told WFAN listeners the publishers "have been waiting for (Ford) to croak so they can unload these (books)," the lawsuit claims.

Besides calling the ad spots "cheesy," Imus said of Ford's death, "Now that he's flatLINED, you go to flatSIGNED.com," the lawsuit filed in Manhattan's state Supreme Court says.

Marc Held, Flatsigned's lawyer, said Thursday that Ford approved the book and signed the copies Flatsigned was selling. Imus was told to read the script "word for word" and not insult the sponsor, "but he kept doing it," Held said.

Flatsigned's sales dropped $40,000 a day for several months after Imus' "libelous and disparaging statements," court papers say. The papers also say stores refused to stock the book because of his comments.

Flatsigned said it paid for two 30-second ad scripts a day for three days — Jan. 29, 30 and 31, 2007.

Imus, 67, read the first script as written, court papers say, but in later readings of the script, he made "unequivocally unacceptable" remarks about the publisher, even after officials at CBS, WFAN's parent, asked him to stop.

Karen Mateo, spokeswoman for CBS, said she had no comment on the lawsuit.

Imus, fired from WFAN last year after making a racially charged remark about the Rutgers University women's basketball team, now has a syndicated show on New York's WABC, which is owned by Citadel Broadcasting Corp.

A spokeswoman for Imus did not immediately return a call for comment, and his lawyer, Martin Garbus, was said to be traveling.

At a point where Imus was supposed to say Ford hand-signed the books before he died, Imus asked, "How else would he sign them, with his foot?" the lawsuit says.

During another ad spot, court papers say, Imus said, "Now that ol' President Ford has flatLINED, buy your piece of American history at FlatSIGNED.com."

Court papers say Imus acknowledged, "They asked me not to say that, but ..." He then agreed with someone in the studio that the play on words was too tempting to pass up, the lawsuit says.

Court papers say Flatsigned rejected an offer by CBS and WFAN in February 2007 to provide 15 "make good" commercial spots on other programs.

The lawsuit asks for $4 million in compensatory damages for breach of contract, libel and malice, and for another $59,000 spent for a newspaper ad that ran after the commercials on Imus's show.

When Marco Carrillo, a naturalized American and a high school valedictorian, went to meet with his college counselor, her major worry about his future had little to do with his SAT scores or essay or extracurricular activities.

It had to do with his citizenship.

"The very first question she asked me was whether I was a legal resident here," said Mr. Carrillo, 20, now an electrical engineering student at Arizona State University in Tempe. "And I said, ‘Yeah, I am.' And she said, ‘Oh good, that makes things easier.' "

Such questions have become commonplace in Arizona, where voters passed a 2006 referendum, Proposition 300, that forbids college students who cannot prove they are legal residents from receiving state financial assistance.

One of several recent immigration statutes passed by Arizona voters and legislators frustrated by federal inaction, the law also prohibits in-state tuition for illegal immigrants. Administrators at several campuses fear that the provision has priced some out of their classes, particularly at the state's popular community colleges.

"When we look at the fall semester that just ended, we saw significant drops in enrollment in English acquisition classes," said Steven R. Helfgot, vice chancellor for student and community affairs at Maricopa Community Colleges. "And we think that some of that at least is due to Prop 300."

A report to the Legislature in December found that about 1,700 students had been denied in-state tuition at the Maricopa colleges because they were not able to prove their legal status, though it was unclear how many had dropped out.

Officials at the University of Arizona in Tucson said that some of the 200 to 300 dropouts from last fall were also illegal immigrants. Pima Community College, estimated that as many as 1,000 students may have been affected by the law.

More than enrollment declines, however, what worries some educators here is that nonlegal residents — some of whom have lived in the United States since infancy and attended American high schools — will be afraid to pursue any form of higher education.

"The most frightening thing about the policy in place isn't necessarily its measurable effect, it's the immeasurable effect," said Paul R. Kohn, the vice provost for enrollment management and dean of admission at the University of Arizona.

"It's likely that there are hundreds of high school senior or college-age students whose plans for college have been compromised," Dr. Kohn said. "And it's likely there are thousands in K-12 who will no longer make those plans because the cost of university is now out of reach or they fear deportation if they attempt to attend school."

The law does not forbid nonlegal residents from attending college or require colleges to report them to the authorities, something the colleges have worked hard to convey. Still, supporters said the law would save the state millions of dollars and provide a powerful disincentive to prospective border-jumpers.

"Arizona has been overwhelmed with illegal immigration and all the negative things that follow — crime, increased public service costs, especially education, and depression of our wages — and the federal government seems barely capable of doing much," said State Representative John Kavanagh, a Republican from Fountain Hills, east of Phoenix. "Denying the in-state tuition, besides being fair to residents, also deters illegal immigrants from coming here."

Arizona lawmakers have been increasingly active on the issue of immigration, moving National Guard troops to the border and passing a law that threatens businesses with the loss of licenses if they hire illegal immigrants.

The moves have disappointed many college-age Mexican-Americans.

"I see it as a very cruel law," said Teresa Guerra, 26, a fourth-generation Mexican-American who is studying history at Phoenix College, a part of the Maricopa system. "A lot of people I've grown up with have gone through that whole thing. They're raised in the American educational system, and now they have no future. These are people who have basically lived in America their whole lives, know nothing else, and now their shot at the American dream is gone."

For students who cannot prove legal residency, the difference in cost can be stark. At Phoenix College, for example, a part of the Maricopa system, in-state tuition runs $65 a credit hour. For out-of-state students taking a full course load, the cost is $280.

The difference can be even more jarring at the state's four-year institutions. Maria Elena Coronado, a student counselor at Arizona State, said out-of-state students could expect to pay $4,000 to $5,000 more a semester than those who proved legal residency.

"I had a girl come in yesterday, who doesn't have papers, but did really well and carried good grades into college," Ms. Coronado said. "But now she could only afford to take one class."

Representative Kavanagh said the law's intent was not to rob young, assimilated Mexicans of the opportunity to go to college, but merely to try to tame a problem Washington had not solved.

"I would be more than happy to take care of those kids who came here at a young age — they are as American as my kids and would be totally lost if they were deported," he said, challenging Democrats in Arizona to draft a bill that "doesn't have amnesty attached to it."

Mr. Carrillo, the Arizona State student, said he knew of several nonlegal residents considering returning to Mexico for college.

"It's expensive going to school in Mexico over there because there's no such thing as financial aid," he said. "You pretty much have to scrape it. But at least you're not worried that you're going to get deported."