Last year, U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. thrust autism into the national spotlight,

calling the developmental disability an epidemic and vowing to investigate what he characterized as its environmental causes.

His speech and the reaction to it struck a nerve in the autism community and reignited debate about whether the autism spectrum is too broad

and whether those with the highest needs are being left out of the conversation.

Judy Woodruff and producer Mary Fecto have this story.

It's part of our series, Disability Reframed.

Pizza.

Car. Oh, you want to go pizza car. 24-year-old Pablo Mesa lives with his parents outside of Santa Cruz, California.

We call him either Pobbs or Pabito.

He is full of life and energy.

He absolutely loves listening to music. He is full of life and energy. He absolutely loves listening to music. He is also on the very severe end of the autism spectrum.

He's not able to tell me that something hurts.

His mother, Alicia Mesa, has been his principal caregiver since he was diagnosed at age two.

He lives with deep frustration from not being able to communicate because he's nonverbal.

His autism presents with severe self-induced behavior, aggression, destructive behavior.

And he has hurt himself over time.

He has, his aggression, most of the time, is trying to communicate that something's wrong.

So instead of saying, oh, my head hurts, he'll start hitting his head forcefully.

He has to go around wearing a football helmet in order to protect

him from more brain injury. Pablo is supported by an around-the-clock team of at least three

people, funded by the state of California, who work with him to develop skills to become more

independent and intervene if his behavior becomes aggressive.

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