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Juveniles Locked Up for Life Will Get a Second Chance in New Mexico. But the State Must Locate Them First.

2 years ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week.

Over the weekend, New Mexico abolished life without parole prison sentences for juveniles, affirming that people who make even the most serious mistakes as teenagers should have a second chance. The new law, signed by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, also requires that current prisoners serving decades behind bars for crimes they committed as minors get a parole hearing.

ProPublica reported earlier this month that the New Mexico Corrections Department had lost track of at least 21 “juvenile lifers,” apparently unaware of who the eligible prisoners are, where they are and how they will be identified for the parole hearings that they now, under the law, deserve.

In a statement Monday in response to ProPublica’s reporting, Grisham’s office said that the corrections agency, which answers to the governor, is working to screen all prisoners in its custody who are serving life sentences, in order to compile a list of those newly eligible for parole.

The effort to find them may require the department to go back through the individual court records of prisoners who entered NMCD custody at or around 18 years old — including some who are now being held in out-of-state facilities — to see if their crime was committed before that age. It also will mean working with the ACLU of New Mexico, which has led the effort to identify these individuals.

The New Mexico law is premised on multiple recent Supreme Court decisions and studies of brain science that have found that kids are impulsive, prone to risk-taking, bad at understanding the consequences of their actions and highly susceptible to peer pressure (often committing their offenses among groups of friends), all of which make them less culpable than adults when they commit crimes. They are also, according to the high court, more capable of redemption.

The brain doesn’t fully develop until around age 25, extensive research shows, and most people are likely to “age out” of criminality.

The law doesn’t guarantee freedom to juvenile lifers in the state, but it will provide them a chance to articulate to the parole board how they have changed, including whether they’ve taken accountability for their actions, followed prison rules and completed educational programming. (Prisoners who have already served 15 years in prison for crimes committed as minors, or 20 to 25 years in the case of some more severe crimes, will also now be eligible for parole.)

The corrections department has until June, after which the law goes into effect, to identify all of the prisoners affected.

“I want to be productive. I want to do something good instead of bad,” said Jerry Torres, one of the lost juvenile lifers found by ProPublica in an out-of-state prison in Arizona.

If identified by New Mexico prison officials, Torres could get a chance at freedom that he never expected. “It’s as simple as that,” he said.

Help Us Identify New Mexico Juvenile Lifers Who May Qualify for Parole Hearings

If you are aware of someone who committed a crime as a juvenile (under the age of 18) in New Mexico and who has since served more than 15 years in prison for that offense, please let us know. As we continue to cover this issue, we will routinely ask the New Mexico Corrections Department if they are aware of the individuals we learn of who may be eligible for a parole hearing if proposed legislation passes. Please enter their information below. If you would prefer to talk to a reporter before you share, please email Eli Hager at Eli.Hager@propublica.org. We appreciate you sharing your story and we take your privacy seriously. We are gathering this information for the purposes of our reporting and will contact you if we wish to publish any part of what you tell us.

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by Eli Hager

A Chicago Suburb Stopped Ticketing Students. But It Won’t Stop Pursuing a 3-Year-Old Case Over Missing AirPods.

2 years ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week. This story was co-published with the Chicago Tribune.

In the three years since Amara Harris was ticketed for theft over a pair of missing AirPods at her high school, she has graduated, earned an associate degree and moved from Naperville, Illinois, to Atlanta to attend Spelman College.

Meanwhile, a statewide reckoning over the harm caused by ticketing students has Illinois lawmakers considering a bill that would outlaw the practice. Naperville police have not ticketed any students this school year.

But the city of Naperville is still committed to prosecuting Harris, who was 17 when she was ticketed for a municipal ordinance violation, and her case is headed toward a jury trial, an extraordinarily rare outcome for such a low-level civil infraction.

This week, Harris’ attorneys and a city prosecutor faced off yet again before a DuPage County Circuit Court judge.

Her attorneys asked the judge at the end of February to dismiss the case, noting that the original ticket accused her only of having the classmate’s AirPods, not of intentionally taking them, which is required to prove theft. In response, prosecutor Joseph Solon Jr. updated Naperville’s allegation to state that Harris had “knowingly” taken the classmate’s AirPods. Judge Monique O’Toole set a hearing for next month to give Harris’ attorneys time to formally respond.

The city has never produced any evidence that Harris knew she had another student’s AirPods, her attorneys say. From the beginning, Harris has said the whole incident was a simple mix-up.

“You have no surveillance video. You have no eyewitness accounts. You have no confession, obviously. What do you have? What is your proof?” Juan Thomas, one of Harris’ attorneys, said after the hearing on Monday. “I’ve never seen a prosecutor update the charge without providing information to support the charge.”

Thomas is one of two prominent civil rights attorneys who took Harris’ case after ProPublica and the Chicago Tribune wrote about it last year.

“This feels very retaliatory. Why hold on to an ordinance violation for three and a half years?” said S. Todd Yeary, Harris’ other attorney and the former chief executive officer of the Rainbow PUSH Coalition, a Chicago-based civil rights organization founded by the Rev. Jesse Jackson. “At the end of the day, the city of Naperville will regret going to such ends. This is not a good use of public resources.”

Solon declined to comment after the hearing.

This would be the first time in at least a decade that a Naperville ordinance violation case went to trial. A Naperville spokesperson said the city hasn’t spent extra money on legal fees for the case because it’s being handled by a city prosecutor. She would not answer questions about what evidence supports the theft citation.

“The City will present the evidence at trial and will not try this case to the press,” spokesperson Linda LaCloche wrote in an email to reporters. Naperville Community Unit District 203 — home of Naperville North High School, the school Harris attended — declined to comment on the case.

ProPublica and the Tribune featured Harris’ case last June as part of a broader investigation into the widespread practice of police in Illinois schools issuing costly tickets to students for violating municipal ordinances. The investigation prompted state education officials to call for the end of school-based ticketing, the state attorney general to initiate a civil rights investigation into a suburban school district northwest of Chicago, and school superintendents to rethink when police should be involved in student discipline.

The Tribune and ProPublica investigation found that at Naperville North High School, Black students were nearly five times more likely than their white peers to be ticketed in the three-year period ending in spring 2021. The police chief said last month that the department now focuses “even more closely on restorative justice measures,” which could account for the lack of tickets issued to students this school year.

Most students and other people ticketed for ordinance violations — civil matters that carry no threat of jail time — admit liability and pay their fine. It’s difficult to fight a ticket because the standard of proof is lower than the one used in criminal court; defendants are held liable if the allegation is deemed more likely to be true than not, and the ticket itself is considered evidence.

Harris’ ticket ordeal began in the fall of 2019, when the father of another student called the school to say he thought his daughter’s AirPods had been stolen. The student then told a school dean that she believed Harris had them because a nearby laptop showed that the AirPods were in range. When the dean asked Harris for the AirPods so he could investigate, she handed them over and explained that she had lost her pair of AirPods and picked up this pair where she thought she had left them, in a school common area. It turned out that the serial number matched the classmate’s missing ones and not the ones Harris had bought a few months earlier.

“When I found out the mistake, I didn’t try to hide it. When the mix-up happened, I didn’t try to keep them and say they were mine. I gave them back,” Harris, now 20, said during a video call this month from a lounge in her dorm at Spelman.

The ticket issued to Harris in 2019 (Redactions by ProPublica)

School administrators did not discipline Harris but relayed the incident to the Naperville police officer assigned to the school. The classmate’s father said he wanted to press charges against Harris for theft, according to the police report. A few weeks later, police issued her a ticket.

Harris’ mother, Marla Baker, has encouraged her daughter to fight the ticket, even as the family has paid significantly more in attorneys’ fees than it would have cost to pay a fine. Harris has said she cannot plead guilty when she is innocent.

Harris’ family has spent at least $2,000 in fees for previous lawyers, Baker said. Legal fees are now being paid for by a nonprofit organization that the family’s current lawyers said wants to remain anonymous.

The maximum fine for violating Naperville’s theft ordinance is $500, plus a $100 court fee.

“I had someone say to me recently, ‘Don’t you wish you just paid the fine?’ I still say, to this day, ‘No,’” Baker said. “I do believe strongly that if she would have paid the fine, it would have stuck with her in her life, all of her life. And probably would not have produced perseverance. I feel like she probably would have developed a defeated mentality.”

by Jodi S. Cohen, ProPublica, and Jennifer Smith Richards, Chicago Tribune

Mississippi Has Invested Millions of Dollars to Save Its Oysters. They’re Disappearing Anyway.

2 years ago

This article was produced for ProPublica’s Local Reporting Network in partnership with the Sun Herald. Sign up for Dispatches to get stories like this one as soon as they are published.

By 2015, it was clear that Mississippi oysters were in crisis. It was a devastating development for the state: As late as 2009, the oyster industry had contributed an estimated $24 million in sales to the state’s economy, and it sustained 562 full- and part-time jobs.

Then-Gov. Phil Bryant convened an oyster council to come up with solutions.

“This is the soybean of the sea,” Bryant said at a community gathering in 2015 at which he unveiled the council’s report. “We’re going to make sure everyone enjoys it.” The council set a goal of producing 1 million sacks of oysters a year by 2025.

But almost a decade later, that goal is nowhere in sight: In a region that helped pioneer the oyster industry, only 457 sacks were harvested in 2022, none of them from the public reefs that the state had worked to restore.

A lot has gone wrong for oysters here, where the region’s blend of saltwater and freshwater has historically nurtured them. Brutal storms and federal flood-management protocols that send freshwater flowing into oyster habitats have both taken their toll, and have escalated as a result of climate change.

But new reporting from ProPublica and the Sun Herald shows that the state has also failed to stem the crisis, investing millions of dollars to rebuild reefs in ways that did not respond to changing conditions. Some of that money came from funds the state received as a result of the BP oil spill.

“They’re just wasting money,” said Keath Ladner, a former oyster fisherman whose family was in the seafood business for three generations. “And the fishermen know this.”

For decades, the state has focused on rebuilding reefs, restoring them with shell or rock to give baby oysters a place to settle and grow. Since Hurricane Katrina damaged or destroyed more than 90% of state reefs in 2005, two state agencies have spent $55 million to restore Mississippi Sound oysters, which are critical to the estuary’s health.

Mississippi maintains the majority of the state’s reefs, opening them to licensed fishermen for harvest. But reefs maintained by the state have shrunk: The state estimates that the Mississippi Sound historically had about 12,000 acres of oyster reefs, compared to 8,112 acres today. There hasn’t been a harvest on Mississippi’s public reefs since 2018. Fishermen have left the industry in droves.

Oyster boats once lined the docks in Hancock County but are scarce these days.

Locals in the fishing industry say the state has failed to do routine maintenance, which includes planting rocks or shells on solid ground and later turning or raking them to knock off silt so baby oysters can settle there.

Joe Spraggins, executive director of the Mississippi Department of Marine Resources, which regulates and oversees the state’s oysters, said his agency does not have enough money and personnel to maintain oyster reefs in today’s climate.

Spraggins himself acknowledged the high costs and poor outcomes. “I could probably go buy 100,000 sacks of oysters in Texas every year and give them to y’all to sell and come out cheaper,” he told oystermen at a meeting in the fall of 2021. He thinks private operators could expand oyster reefs beyond the acres that the Marine Resources Department plants with rock and tries to maintain.

That’s the conclusion of state Sen. Mike Thompson, an attorney who piloted offshore boats when he was younger. In his opinion, it’s time to give “the fishermen who know and understand the fishery the opportunity to restore the reefs.” He recently introduced legislation that would expand private leasing of oyster grounds.

The sense of urgency about saving the oysters stems from more than falling seafood sales. Oyster reefs are critical for the health of the Mississippi Sound and other estuaries. They serve as nurseries, refuge and foraging grounds for many aquatic animals, including fish, shrimp and crabs. They protect the shoreline from erosion in storms. And oysters filter and clean the water as they feed, with one oyster capable of filtering up to 50 gallons a day.

“That is a keystone species for any estuary, and that’s exactly what we have here in the Mississippi Sound,” said Erik Broussard, deputy director of marine fisheries for the Marine Resources Department. “So it’s extremely important for everything that inhabits the Mississippi Sound to have a healthy shellfish population.”

A global analysis published in 2009 concluded that “oyster reefs are one of, and likely the most, imperiled marine habitat on earth. The oyster fisheries of the Gulf of Mexico need to be managed for what they represent: likely the last opportunity in the world to achieve both large-scale reef conservation and sustainable fisheries.”

But signs of recovery are hard to find in this Gulf of Mexico estuary. On a sunny day in October aboard a fishing boat called the Salty Boy, coastal science professor Eric Powell and crew scoured the bottom of the western Mississippi Sound for oysters.

A graduate research assistant at The University of Southern Mississippi’s Gulf Coast Research Laboratory shovels oyster shells for sorting. Oyster biologist Eric Powell, center, has been monitoring the growth of oysters on Mississippi’s reefs.

Over six hours, they found only five live adult oysters large enough to be harvested. Powell was encouraged to see more young oysters growing on the reefs, but said the population is still “well short” of recovery.

Years of Decline

The Jenkins family ran a seafood business on the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia until disease ravaged the oyster beds there.

By the 1990s, they were buying their oysters from Mississippi, which had been a major seafood producer since the early 20th century: Oyster shells paved the beach highway and seafood factories once lined the shores in Biloxi, where casinos dominate the commercial waterfront today.

So the Jenkins family followed the oysters to Pass Christian, on the western side of the Mississippi Sound, a Gulf of Mexico estuary where saltwater from the Gulf mixes with freshwater from rivers and other sources. The family found a fleet of around 100 oyster boats docked in the harbor to supply their new company, Crystal Seas Seafood. Business was good.

“My dad worked there all day long during oyster season, helping unload the boats for us and load the trucks for us and some of our customers,” Jennifer Jenkins said.

Jennifer Jenkins manages Crystal Seas Seafood in Pass Christian. First image: Workers shuck oysters at Crystal Seas. Second image: Oysters will be frozen and boxed up for distribution.

Today, however, most of the oyster boats in Pass Christian’s harbor have been sold or re-fitted for crabbing or shrimping. In 2004, the state had 13 companies licensed to process oysters. By 2022, there were only three, state records show.

“Oysters, it’s shot,” said Roscoe Liebig, a former oyster fisherman who runs a live bait shop from a steel barge in Pass Christian’s harbor. “They’re finding a few here and a few there, but it’s mainly just petrified shells.”

The region’s reefs have taken dramatic hits in the last two decades, triggering mass oyster deaths. The first blow was Hurricane Katrina, the August 2005 storm that scoured reefs and buried oysters in mud. The Marine Resources Department estimated that 90% of reefs were damaged or destroyed.

The storm also devastated local infrastructure. Keath Ladner’s grandfather had opened a seafood market in the region in 1942, serving the picturesque city of Bay St. Louis, which drew tourists and New Orleans residents who built second homes along the shorelines.

The business eventually expanded to Bayou Caddy in Hancock County, which borders Louisiana. There, Ladner’s father operated a seafood and ice business with docks where the family bought and sold oysters and shrimp. Ladner and his brother followed his father into the business, expanding with a marina.

Ladner said his family lost $8 million in buildings and equipment to Katrina. The story of loss was common along the 70 miles of Mississippi coastline pummeled by the hurricane’s storm surge, which reached up to 28 feet.

Harold Strong, left, and his lifelong friend Keath Ladner grew up fishing for oysters together before Ladner left the industry.

The oyster population suffered again five years later, when oil gushed from a BP well in the Gulf for 87 days, fouling 1,300 miles of coastline from Texas to Florida and killing sea turtles, dolphins and birds.

As damage from the oil spill was still being assessed, the Army Corps of Engineers opened the Bonnet Carré Spillway in May 2011 for 42 days to prevent Mississippi River flooding. The spillway empties river water into Lake Pontchartrain, in Louisiana, which flows into the Mississippi Sound. Opening that waterway follows federal protocols for preventing flooding in the region, but doing so can reduce salinity in nearby waterways to levels at which oysters are unable to survive. The 2011 opening killed 85% of oysters in the Mississippi Sound.

The struggling oyster population took another hit in 2016, when many were killed by low oxygen levels. The hypoxia event is unexplained, but not uncommon in the Sound, said Powell, the coastal scientist.

But as disasters go, it was the huge quantity of freshwater released by the Bonnet Carré Spillway in 2019 that topped them all. The spillway was opened twice, for a record-high total of 123 days, because of severe Mississippi River flooding caused by heavy rainfall. The river water killed almost all the oysters in the western Sound and, for the first time in memory, Spraggins of Marine Resources said, killed oysters all the way to Pascagoula, more than 100 nautical miles away, near the Alabama state line.

As climate change ushers in more intense rainfall, one 2020 paper from University of Mississippi scientists suggested that the continued reliance on this method of preventing floods could render oyster harvesting unsustainable in the western Sound.

“If the decision is, ‘We’re going to depend totally on that one spillway, which means that periodically Mississippi Sound is going to become a freshwater lake,’ then let’s not worry about spending a lot of money trying to restore oyster reefs because you’re just pouring money down a rathole,” Powell said.

Failed Interventions

Oysters reproduce by releasing sperm and eggs into the water during spawning season, which in the Mississippi Sound occurs between May and October. These larvae float freely for two to three weeks before cementing for life to a hard surface.

But as reefs disappear, hard surfaces can be difficult to find. So as the disasters in the Sound escalated, Mississippi poured millions of dollars into physically rebuilding the reefs that oysters need to grow.

Since 2005, Mississippi’s Department of Marine Resources has spent $35.6 million on oyster restoration. And after a federal settlement with BP over its oil spill sent money for economic development and environmental restoration to the region, the state’s Department of Environmental Quality has spent another $19.8 million on the effort.

One $10 million project that the Environmental Quality and Marine Resources departments carried out a decade ago involved spraying limestone mixed with a small quantity of oyster shell from a barge onto 12 western Sound reefs covering 1,430 acres.

Limestone is blasted from a barge into the Mississippi Sound in 2011 as part of an effort to restore the oyster reefs. (Tim Isbell/Sun Herald)

The majority of the material was sprayed in spring 2013. A 2016 monitoring report filed by Marine Resources found that on five of those reefs, between 30% and 90% of the material sprayed sank into the mud, where oysters are unable to grow.

A final report filed on the project in July 2021 tells the story: zero adult oysters found in samples from the 12 sites sprayed.

“It’s very unfortunate that our goal was not met,” the report concludes. “Natural Disasters and events beyond our control led to the failure of accomplishing our goal.”

The report attributes the project’s failure to a range of causes including hypoxia, the 2019 Bonnet Carré openings, tropical storms and commercial harvesting that the governing board of Marine Resources allowed on the newly restored reefs.

By January 2021, the Marine Resources Department publicly conceded the “uncertainty” of investing in western Sound oyster restoration because of more frequent Bonnet Carré openings. Marine Resources managers said they had started shifting efforts to the east, where water bottoms suitable for oysters are far more limited, by 2016.

The Environmental Quality agency has had a reef project in the central Sound since 2016. Since it started, the project has struggled with materials, cost and timing. Final results are still pending, but monitoring shows more reef loss than gain in the areas planted. Most of the sites tested so far show live oysters, although they were present in significant numbers on only half the subplots planted with limestone. Marine Resources says the project was intended to test reef material, not grow large amounts of oysters.

Environmental Quality spent almost $2.5 million deploying the limestone. The overall project, which includes mapping, monitoring and other components, is expected to cost $11.7 million.

“The point of this project was to see if this technique would be helpful across the program,” said Valerie Alley, program management division chief of Environmental Quality’s Office of Restoration. “So anything it tells us is good. It’s either we do it this way or we need to find another way, right?”

Another BP-funded oyster project in the eastern Sound was awarded $4.1 million in 2019. Located off the shores of Pascagoula, a city known for building military ships, it will not proceed as originally planned.

Environmental Quality had planned to move oysters from a Pascagoula reef where water is polluted to an area where they could purge themselves and be safe for consumption.

But Environmental Quality Executive Director Chris Wells said that too few oysters were found on the reef for relocation. Instead, the agency hopes to use most of the funding to build up the reef, which would be good for the oysters and for the environment. “If we can replenish that oyster reef, or any oyster reefs over there, you get oysters in the water and they start filtering and that improves water quality,” Wells said.

Should Reefs Be Privatized?

Aaron Tillman used to love fishing for oysters off the shores of Pass Christian. The reefs are close enough to shore that he could catch his limit for the day and be home for dinner.

The 48-year-old is a third-generation fisherman; his nine brothers and stepbrothers were also fishermen, but he’s the only one left in the business.

It hasn’t been easy, and today, he’s running out of the Pass Christian harbor and fishing for oysters. Just not in Mississippi.

Instead, Tillman is fishing private leases that Crystal Seas Seafood maintains in Louisiana, where oyster grounds have been leased to individuals and businesses since the 1800s.

By the early 1900s, gasoline-powered luggers had replaced sail-driven schooners for catching oysters in the Mississippi Sound. (L.J. Joe Scholtes Collection/Southern Possum Tales)

One reef is only 10 miles over the Mississippi-Louisiana state line, and was damaged by freshwater flooding in 2019, but the private lease grounds in Louisiana are producing oysters, while the public grounds he fished in Mississippi are closed because there are too few adult oysters to harvest.

After the die-off caused by the 2019 Bonnet Carré openings, Jenkins said Crystal Seas sprayed clean, dry oyster shell from its processing plant and turned over old oyster shell on its Louisiana reefs so oysters would grow again.

“The oysters in Louisiana are growing real good,” Tillman said after a recent three-day trip. “Plenty of oysters growing all over.”

Crystal Seas workers unload bags of oysters that were harvested from one of the company’s Louisiana leases.

There are a lot of differences between the two states: Louisiana has much more water and more harvestable reefs than Mississippi does, and the water flows in different ways, so the impacts of natural and manmade disasters are not the same in both states.

But even accounting for those differences, officials who work on oyster projects in both states said Louisiana’s reefs are healthier in part because of who manages them: Fishermen hold leases on about 400,000 acres of Louisiana water bottoms, while the state maintains 38,000 acres of reefs. The state concedes that the private lease grounds are in far better shape than the state-maintained grounds.

In Louisiana, 99% of the oyster harvest came from private leases in 2021, said Carolina Bourque, oyster program manager for the state Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. In Mississippi, by contrast, records show no harvest of significance on leased reefs since 2016; that year, the catch on privately leased reefs was less than 1% of the total.

The spillway openings did damage in Louisiana, Bourque said. But even though the freshwater damaged some private leases, she said “they were fast coming back.” She said this was possible because private fishermen were able to replace material on the reefs right away.

Mississippi has been slow to expand private leasing, one of many recommendations that were made in the June 2015 Governor’s Oyster Council report. The state Legislature in 2015 expanded lease terms from one to five years and is currently working on a bill to open more areas for private leasing. Marine Resources administrators say they work with private leaseholders in Mississippi, but only a few are active.

One of the upsides of private leasing is that companies are highly motivated to keep their acres in good shape.

“When it’s your money on the line,” Jenkins, the manager of Crystal Seas, said, “you learn fast.”

In Louisiana, Bourque said leaseholders were able to replant quickly after the 2019 Bonnet Carré openings, while states can wait several years for federal disaster funding and depend on Mother Nature to replenish reefs.

Jenkins thinks oysters can still be grown in the western Sound with the right management techniques.

“They’re growing them in Louisiana 3 miles away,” she said, “so there’s no big wall out there that doesn’t allow it to happen here.”

by Anita Lee, Sun Herald, photography by Hannah Ruhoff, Sun Herald

Republican Rep. Jim Jordan Issues Sweeping Information Requests to Universities Researching Disinformation

2 years ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive our biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

Correction, March 22, 2023: This story’s headline has been corrected to remove an inaccurate description of Rep. Jim Jordan’s requests for information, which were not subpoenas.

House Republicans have sent letters to at least three universities and a think tank requesting a broad range of documents related to what it says are the institutions' contributions to the Biden administration’s “censorship regime.”

The letters are the latest effort by a House subcommittee set up in January to investigate how the federal government, working with social media companies, has allegedly been “weaponized” to silence conservative and right-wing voices. So far, the committee’s investigations have amplified a variety of dubious, outright false and highly misleading Republican grievances with law enforcement, many of them espoused by former President Donald Trump. Committee members have cited supposed abuses that include the FBI’s search of Mar-a-Lago, its investigations of Jan. 6 rioters and the Biden administration’s purported use of executive powers to shut down conservative viewpoints on social media.

Now, universities and their researchers are coming under the spotlight of the committee, which the Republicans have labeled the House Judiciary Select Subcommittee on the Weaponization of the Federal Government. The letters, signed by Rep. Jim Jordan, R-Ohio, who is chair of both the House Judiciary Committee and the subcommittee, were sent in early March.

They cover an investigation into how “certain third parties, including organizations like yours, may have played a role in this censorship regime by advising on so-called ‘misinformation,’” according to a copy of one of the letters obtained by ProPublica.

The committee requested documents and information dating back to January 2015 between any “employee, contractor, or agent of your organization” and the federal government or social media organizations pertaining to the moderation of social media content. ProPublica confirmed the requests went to Stanford University, the University of Washington, Clemson University and the German Marshall Fund of the United States.

The letters have prompted a wave of alarm among those in the field that the congressional inquiry itself, no matter what it finds, will lead universities to pull back on this research just as the 2024 election gets underway. “Recent efforts definitely have a chilling effect on the community of experts across academia, civil society and government built up to understand broader online harms like harassment, foreign influence and — yes — disinformation,” Graham Brookie, who leads studies in this area at the Atlantic Council, told ProPublica.

“The ‘weaponization’ committee is being weaponized against us,” another researcher told ProPublica. Like half a dozen others interviewed for this story, this person asked not to be identified because of the ongoing congressional probe.

Democrats have called the committee a modern-day House Un-American Activities Committee, akin to the congressional committee that pursued alleged communists during the McCarthy era.

Since Rep. Jordan took over the gavel of the judiciary committee in January, he has issued more than 80 subpoenas and requests for documents. Recipients have included the CEOs of social media companies, intelligence officials who signed on to a statement about Hunter Biden’s laptop during the 2020 campaign and members of the National School Boards Association who asked the Justice Department to investigate threats of violence against school board officials. Jordan himself refused a subpoena to testify before the Democratic-led House Select Committee on the January 6 Attack, prompting that committee to refer the matter to the House Ethics Committee.

Jordan’s missives were sent a day after a committee hearing on the “Twitter files,” leaked internal communications from the company that purported to show how right-wing accounts were sidelined and silenced. In written testimony, a panelist accused a broad swath of organizations and individuals of being members of the “Censorship Industrial Complex,” including, he implied, the FBI, Department of Homeland Security, CIA, Department of Defense and universities. The witness wrote disinformation researchers, working with the government, are “creating blacklists of disfavored people and then pressuring, cajoling, and demanding that social media platforms censor, deamplify, and even ban the people on these blacklists.”

A New York University study concluded in 2021 that social media had not silenced those on the right. “The claim of anti-conservative animus” by social media companies, the study said, “is itself a form of disinformation: a falsehood with no reliable evidence to support it."

A spokesperson for Rep. Jordan did not respond to requests for comment.

Since the 2016 elections, Stanford, UW, Clemson and others have engaged in research, sometimes in partnership with social media platforms, government officials and each other, into ways that disinformation can pose threats to democracy and how such efforts can be meaningfully countered. The role of lies and disinformation leading to the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol gave increased prominence to their work.

As ProPublica has previously reported, sustained accusations by congressional Republicans and right-wing influencers that the Biden administration is stifling dissent have caused the administration to back away from its efforts countering disinformation, including canceling research contracts and sending messages inside the administration that disinformation work is too hot to handle.

Those moves followed a bungled rollout of a clumsily named “Disinformation Governance Board” to coordinate efforts to counter what the administration had called “dangerous conspiracy theories that can provide a gateway to terrorist violence.” Following criticism, the administration disbanded the board and accepted the resignation of its executive director, Nina Jankowicz.

Jordan has subpoenaed Jankowicz, too. She is scheduled to testify April 10 and said she will happily testify under oath.

“This sort of inquiry isn’t something that belongs in the United States Congress,” said Jankowicz. “But given that this method of bullying has caused other institutions to fold to Republican pressure in the past, I fear we may see the blunt force of congressional committees continue to be used in ways that are in direct opposition to the safety, security and free expression of the American people.”

Stanford did not answer a question about whether it stood by its research or make its researchers, the Stanford Internet Observatory’s Alex Stamos or Renee DiResta, available for comment. The university referred ProPublica to an online fact sheet addressing “inaccurate and misleading claims” made in the congressional testimony about Stanford’s “projects to analyze rumors and narratives on social media relating to U.S. elections and the coronavirus.” The German Marshall fund said it was working to address the request and Clemson University’s media relations department did not respond to requests for comment.

The University of Washington’s Center for an Informed Public issued a statement that said “We’re incredibly proud of our work,” adding that “some of the projects CIP researchers have contributed to have become the subject of false claims and criticism that mischaracterizes our work, a tactic that peer researchers in this space are also experiencing.” The statement did not specifically address the House requests.

A university spokesperson, Victor Balta, said in an email, “The UW stands behind this important research aiming to resist strategic misinformation and strengthen our discourse. We have received a request for documents and information, and a response is in progress.”

Correction

March 22, 2023: A headline on this story originally incorrectly described Rep. Jim Jordan’s letters to universities. They are requests for information, not subpoenas.

by Andrea Bernstein

Republican Rep. Jim Jordan Issues Sweeping Subpoenas to Universities Researching Disinformation

2 years ago

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House Republicans have sent letters to at least three universities and a think tank requesting a broad range of documents related to what it says are the institutions' contributions to the Biden administration’s “censorship regime.”

The letters are the latest effort by a House subcommittee set up in January to investigate how the federal government, working with social media companies, has allegedly been “weaponized” to silence conservative and right-wing voices. So far, the committee’s investigations have amplified a variety of dubious, outright false and highly misleading Republican grievances with law enforcement, many of them espoused by former President Donald Trump. Committee members have cited supposed abuses that include the FBI’s search of Mar-a-Lago, its investigations of Jan. 6 rioters and the Biden administration’s purported use of executive powers to shut down conservative viewpoints on social media.

Now, universities and their researchers are coming under the spotlight of the committee, which the Republicans have labeled the House Judiciary Select Subcommittee on the Weaponization of the Federal Government. The letters, signed by Rep. Jim Jordan, R-Ohio, who is chair of both the House Judiciary Committee and the subcommittee, were sent in early March.

They cover an investigation into how “certain third parties, including organizations like yours, may have played a role in this censorship regime by advising on so-called ‘misinformation,’” according to a copy of one of the letters obtained by ProPublica.

The committee requested documents and information dating back to January 2015 between any “employee, contractor, or agent of your organization” and the federal government or social media organizations pertaining to the moderation of social media content. ProPublica confirmed the requests went to Stanford University, the University of Washington, Clemson University and the German Marshall Fund of the United States.

The letters have prompted a wave of alarm among those in the field that the congressional inquiry itself, no matter what it finds, will lead universities to pull back on this research just as the 2024 election gets underway. “Recent efforts definitely have a chilling effect on the community of experts across academia, civil society and government built up to understand broader online harms like harassment, foreign influence and — yes — disinformation,” Graham Brookie, who leads studies in this area at the Atlantic Council, told ProPublica.

“The ‘weaponization’ committee is being weaponized against us,” another researcher told ProPublica. Like half a dozen others interviewed for this story, this person asked not to be identified because of the ongoing congressional probe.

Democrats have called the committee a modern-day House Un-American Activities Committee, akin to the congressional committee that pursued alleged communists during the McCarthy era.

Since Rep. Jordan took over the gavel of the judiciary committee in January, he has issued more than 80 subpoenas and requests for documents. Recipients have included the CEOs of social media companies, intelligence officials who signed on to a statement about Hunter Biden’s laptop during the 2020 campaign and members of the National School Boards Association who asked the Justice Department to investigate threats of violence against school board officials. Jordan himself refused a subpoena to testify before the Democratic-led House Select Committee on the January 6 Attack, prompting that committee to refer the matter to the House Ethics Committee.

Jordan’s missives were sent a day after a committee hearing on the “Twitter files,” leaked internal communications from the company that purported to show how right-wing accounts were sidelined and silenced. In written testimony, a panelist accused a broad swath of organizations and individuals of being members of the “Censorship Industrial Complex,” including, he implied, the FBI, Department of Homeland Security, CIA, Department of Defense and universities. The witness wrote disinformation researchers, working with the government, are “creating blacklists of disfavored people and then pressuring, cajoling, and demanding that social media platforms censor, deamplify, and even ban the people on these blacklists.”

A New York University study concluded in 2021 that social media had not silenced those on the right. “The claim of anti-conservative animus” by social media companies, the study said, “is itself a form of disinformation: a falsehood with no reliable evidence to support it."

A spokesperson for Rep. Jordan did not respond to requests for comment.

Since the 2016 elections, Stanford, UW, Clemson and others have engaged in research, sometimes in partnership with social media platforms, government officials and each other, into ways that disinformation can pose threats to democracy and how such efforts can be meaningfully countered. The role of lies and disinformation leading to the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol gave increased prominence to their work.

As ProPublica has previously reported, sustained accusations by congressional Republicans and right-wing influencers that the Biden administration is stifling dissent have caused the administration to back away from its efforts countering disinformation, including canceling research contracts and sending messages inside the administration that disinformation work is too hot to handle.

Those moves followed a bungled rollout of a clumsily named “Disinformation Governance Board” to coordinate efforts to counter what the administration had called “dangerous conspiracy theories that can provide a gateway to terrorist violence.” Following criticism, the administration disbanded the board and accepted the resignation of its executive director, Nina Jankowicz.

Jordan has subpoenaed Jankowicz, too. She is scheduled to testify April 10 and said she will happily testify under oath.

“This sort of inquiry isn’t something that belongs in the United States Congress,” said Jankowicz. “But given that this method of bullying has caused other institutions to fold to Republican pressure in the past, I fear we may see the blunt force of congressional committees continue to be used in ways that are in direct opposition to the safety, security and free expression of the American people.”

Stanford did not answer a question about whether it stood by its research or make its researchers, the Stanford Internet Observatory’s Alex Stamos or Renee DiResta, available for comment. The university referred ProPublica to an online fact sheet addressing “inaccurate and misleading claims” made in the congressional testimony about Stanford’s “projects to analyze rumors and narratives on social media relating to U.S. elections and the coronavirus.” The German Marshall fund said it was working to address the request and Clemson University’s media relations department did not respond to requests for comment.

The University of Washington’s Center for an Informed Public issued a statement that said “We’re incredibly proud of our work,” adding that “some of the projects CIP researchers have contributed to have become the subject of false claims and criticism that mischaracterizes our work, a tactic that peer researchers in this space are also experiencing.” The statement did not specifically address the House requests.

A university spokesperson, Victor Balta, said in an email, “The UW stands behind this important research aiming to resist strategic misinformation and strengthen our discourse. We have received a request for documents and information, and a response is in progress.”

by Andrea Bernstein

DeSantis Privately Called for Google to Be “Broken Up”

2 years ago

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Florida governor Ron DeSantis has frequently railed against “Big Tech.” He has accused Google, Facebook and Twitter of silencing conservative voices.

But in private, DeSantis has gone even further.

In previously unreported comments made in 2021, DeSantis said technology companies like Google “should be broken up” by the U.S. government.

DeSantis, widely considered a presidential hopeful, made the remarks at an invite-only retreat for the Teneo Network, a “private and confidential” group for elite conservatives. ProPublica and Documented obtained video of the event.

“They’re just too big, they have too much power,” DeSantis said. “I think they’re exercising a more negative influence on our society than the trusts that got broken up at the early 20th century.” He added that large tech companies “are ruining our country. They’re a very negative influence. And so I think you need to be strong about it.”

DeSantis’ call to break up large tech companies occurred at the Teneo Network’s annual retreat in 2021. As ProPublica and Documented recently reported, the Teneo Network aims to “crush liberal dominance” across many areas of American society, according to its chairman Leonard Leo, the influential legal activist and longtime leader of the Federalist Society.

DeSantis’ office did not respond to requests seeking comment. Teneo declined to comment.

In recent years, “Big Tech” has emerged as a favored target for Republican lawmakers and activists, even as prominent conservatives have amassed huge followings on Twitter, Facebook and other platforms. Pointing to such high-profile examples as Donald Trump’s suspension from Facebook and Twitter’s decision to briefly block a story about Hunter Biden’s laptop, Republicans claim that U.S. tech companies have systematically suppressed conservative viewpoints and interfered with elections in ways that have helped Democrats.

A 2021 study issued by New York University researchers concluded those assertions were baseless. “The claim of anti-conservative animus on the part of social media companies is itself a form of disinformation: a falsehood with no reliable evidence to support it," the researchers for the NYU Stern Center for Business and Human Rights wrote.

Liberal lawmakers and policy experts have also called for stronger antitrust enforcement of major tech companies. During the 2020 presidential race, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., campaigned on a platform of breaking up Amazon, Facebook and Google, saying they had “too much power over our economy, our society, and our democracy.” In 2021, Democrats in Congress introduced legislation to split up tech firms, but the bills never became law.

Matt Stoller, an antitrust expert who works at the American Economic Liberties Project, said it’s hard to tell if DeSantis’ private comments indicate genuine concern about corporate concentration of power or just anger at large firms perceived to be hostile to conservatives.

“There’s a war on the right about antitrust,” Stoller said. “I’m skeptical but open-minded that DeSantis wants to do something serious about economic power.”

Stoller added that he was more intrigued by DeSantis’ decision to call for breaking up tech at an event so closely associated with Leonard Leo. “If Leo buys that argument,” Stoller said, “then it means that a lot of federal judges might tip in that direction, too.”

A spokesperson for Leo declined to comment.

Teneo’s retreats are invite-only affairs limited to its members, their spouses and special guests. ProPublica and Documented obtained a video of DeSantis’ remarks about big tech, which took place during a longer conversation between DeSantis and Vivek Ramaswamy, a biotech entrepreneur who is now running for president as a Republican.

Watch Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis Talk About Breaking Up Big Tech (Teneo)

Watch video ➜

As governor, DeSantis has repeatedly singled out tech and social-media companies, saying their actions “may be one of the most pervasive threats to American self-government in the 21st century.” Legislation he signed in May 2021 not only seeks to give Floridians the ability to sue tech companies and win monetary damages, it also empowers the state’s attorney general to bring cases against tech companies under the Florida Deceptive and Unfair Trade Practices Act. (Tech companies are challenging the law, and its fate remains unclear.)

In February of this year, DeSantis introduced a plan to create what he called a Digital Bill of Rights for Florida citizens. The proposal, billed as a way to protect privacy and eliminate “unfair censorship,” would ban TikTok on state government devices and block local and state employees “from coordinating with Big Tech companies to censor protected speech.”

But unlike some of his fellow conservatives, DeSantis’ barbed public remarks about big tech have stopped short of urging the U.S. government to break up those tech companies. In his new book, “The Courage to Be Free,” he makes only a passing reference to “enforcing antitrust laws” against “large corporations that are wielding what is effectively public power.”

In his remarks at the Teneo Network retreat, DeSantis described tech companies as “monopolies” that “have more power over our lives than the monopolies of the early 20th century ever had. And it’s not even close.” He listed tech companies’ extensive data collection practices and their ability to shape “core political speech” as evidence of big tech’s monopolistic powers.

(Teneo)

Watch video ➜

He went on to say that tech platforms “enforce their terms unevenly,” adding that “if you have a conservative viewpoint, you’re much more likely to get censored, you’re much more likely to get deplatformed.”

And in response to critics who might say it’s not the role of government at any level to insert itself into the workings of a private business, DeSantis offered a sharp rebuttal. “Protecting the rights of folks to participate in political speech, I think, is an absolutely appropriate role of government,” he said. “And I think that we should do all that we can.”

When pressed by Ramaswamy onstage about using government power to shrink big tech companies, DeSantis stood by his position. “Those big companies are basically an arm of the ruling regime,” he said. “Yeah, that should be something that should be done.” And when asked if he feared that breaking up U.S. companies would strengthen China’s position in global markets, DeSantis appeared unbothered, saying that he believed antitrust action was still the correct course.

“These tech companies are ruining our country,” he said. “They’re a very negative influence. You need to be strong about it. And so that would not be the biggest concern I would have. My concern would be not having massive concentrations of power that are capable of silencing dissent, enforcing an orthodoxy and obviously interfering in elections, which we saw they did in 2020.”

Do you have information about Leonard Leo or the Teneo Network that we should know? Reporter Andy Kroll can be reached via email at andy.kroll@propublica.org or via Signal at 202-215-6203.

by Andy Kroll, ProPublica, and Nick Surgey, Documented

Senators Had Questions for the Maker of a Rent-Setting Algorithm. The Answers Were “Alarming.”

2 years ago

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After a ProPublica investigation last year, a group of senators demanded answers from a real estate tech company that helps landlords set rents across the country.

The investigation revealed how some of the nation’s biggest landlords share proprietary information with RealPage, a Texas company whose software uses the data to recommend rent prices for available units. Legal experts say the arrangement may facilitate cartel-like behavior among landlords, who could use the software to coordinate pricing.

Now, RealPage has responded to questions from Democratic Sens. Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, Tina Smith and Ed Markey. The company’s answers, the lawmakers said, revealed “alarming” new details.

In a letter to the Department of Justice, the senators said RealPage did not provide all the information they had asked for last November, but the answers the company did give raise concerns that its YieldStar software may play a role in driving rent inflation in some of the country’s biggest markets.

“YieldStar has been most prevalent in some of the regions most heavily targeted by corporate buyers and with the highest rent increases,” the senators wrote.

The legislators said that publicly available information shows the software is used in pricing more than 4 million units, representing about 8% of all rental units nationwide. RealPage has so many clients it has access to “transactional apartment data from the rent rolls of 13+ million units,” according to the company’s website.

“Given YieldStar’s market share, even the widespread use of its anonymized and aggregated proprietary rental data by the country’s largest landlords could result in de-facto price-setting by those companies, driving up prices and hurting renters,” the senators’ letter said.

The senators wrote that “the DOJ should act to protect American families and closely review rent-setting algorithms like YieldStar to determine if they are having anti-competitive effects on local housing markets that have seen increased institutional investor activity.”

In a response to questions from ProPublica about the lawmakers’ letter, a RealPage spokesperson said that the firm “appreciates the opportunity to work with the senators’ offices.” The company is “always willing to engage policy stakeholders to ensure an informed and comprehensive understanding of the benefits we contribute to the rental ecosystem,” the spokesperson said.

After ProPublica’s story ran, more than two dozen federal lawsuits were filed by renters alleging antitrust violations by RealPage and more than 40 landlords in multiple states. When the first complaint was filed, a RealPage representative told ProPublica that the company “strongly denies the allegations and will vigorously defend against the lawsuit.” She declined to comment further, saying the company does not comment on pending litigation.

In November, sources confirmed that the DOJ’s antitrust division had opened an investigation. At the time, RealPage did not respond to a request for comment .

In its 14-page response to the senators, RealPage said recent news stories, including ProPublica’s, “do not accurately describe how these products work, in particular with regard to the role that data about other properties plays in generating rent price recommendations for RealPage’s customers and the effect that the use of these products has had on rents and apartment occupancy rates.” The company said a shortage of supply in rental housing is responsible for driving rents higher, not its software. The letter was redacted in places to protect confidential business information.

The company said that the purpose of YieldStar is not to raise rents at every opportunity, but to “manage revenues” so they are in line with the owner’s needs and management strategy. Data “does not support the assertion that YieldStar uniformly pushes rents higher,” the company said, and the software will often recommend reducing rents to minimize vacancies.

ProPublica’s story did not assert that the software always pushes rents higher. But our data analysis found that five of RealPage’s largest clients controlled more apartments in cities where rents rose rapidly and fewer apartments in metro areas where rents increased more slowly. All five property managers used RealPage’s pricing software in at least some of their buildings, and together they control thousands of apartments in metro areas where rents for a typical two-bedroom apartment rose 30% or more between 2014 and 2019.

RealPage clients may gravitate toward high-rent-growth markets simply because the companies expect those areas to offer more opportunities to make money. But RealPage says pricing suggested by its software helps landlords beat their market.

In its letter to senators, RealPage said the software itself “never” recommends removing apartments from a landlord’s inventory — a move that reduces the supply of housing and could make it easier to command higher rents — though property managers can do so if a unit needs repairs or renovations, for example.

The company said that increased use of its software has not reduced the number of apartments available for rent overall. The company said the metro areas where YieldStar has the highest penetration “have not seen inflated vacancy rates.”

“While it is difficult to differentiate the impact of revenue management tools like YieldStar from other market forces that affect occupancy rates, the fact that apartment providers now have commercial revenue management products available to them has not resulted in a national increase in vacancy rates,” the company said. RealPage said vacancy rates have dropped over the decade — a trend that housing experts say is part of a crisis in housing availability and cost.

But we found examples where company officials had urged property managers to consider whether they could make more money from rentals by raising prices and not rushing to fill all vacant units.

RealPage’s former CEO, Steve Winn, boasted on an earnings call in 2017 that one large property company found it could make greater profits by operating at a lower occupancy rate that “would have made management uncomfortable before.”

“Initially, it was very hard for executives to accept that they could operate at 94% or 96% and achieve a higher NOI by increasing rents,” Winn said on the call, referring to net operating income. The company “began utilizing RealPage to operate at 95%, while seeing revenue increases of 3% to 4%.”

A RealPage blog in 2018 also warned student housing landlords that if they weren’t using revenue management software, they could be “leaving money on the table” by being too quick to decrease rents.

“Many of the beds renting earlier in the season were arbitrarily set at a lower tier price — and may have been rentable at a higher price,” the blog said. “Worse, in fear of empty beds, some properties offer concessions or discounts for early rental decisions when they might have been able to fill all the beds at a top tier price.”

Another page on RealPage’s website said: “By focusing on the right information — not just occupancy — capabilities like revenue management empower operators to assure that pricing is right and there’s no money left on the table.”

The company also told the senators that the final decision on what to charge rests with the property manager. “YieldStar customers are under no obligation — contractually or otherwise — to follow the pricing recommendations generated by YieldStar software,” the company said.

But former RealPage employees told ProPublica that landlords follow as much as 90% of the software’s suggestions.

The letter said that news reports “badly distort and overstate the role that non-public data about other properties plays.” RealPage said its software prioritizes a landlord’s internal rent data over external factors such as what competitors charge.

But it acknowledged that it draws information from “executed leases,” which are typically not public.

Even with RealPage’s explanation, Warren and the other senators expressed concerns about the use of such data.

“Notably, RealPage provided important information about the extent to which the company facilitates information sharing by and among large institutional landlords — a particular concern given the market share of the product,” the senators’ letter to the DOJ said.

The company said its software helps landlords offer prospective renters more options for the length and cost of a lease. It said that the algorithm removes human biases that can result in violations of laws barring discrimination in housing.

The letter said revenue management software is not unique to RealPage, or even to the housing market.

But ProPublica found that the company became the dominant provider of such services for apartment rentals in 2017, when it bought its biggest competitor.

Haru Coryne of ProPublica and Ryan Little contributed data analysis.

by Heather Vogell

Have a Student in New Mexico Schools? Here Is What to Know About How School Discipline Works.

2 years ago

We wrote this story in plain language. Plain language means it is easier to read for some people.

This is a guide to school discipline in New Mexico and Gallup-McKinley County Schools. You can print and share a short copy of this guide.

This guide is part of a project by ProPublica and New Mexico In Depth.

We are reporters. We are not lawyers or advocates. We want to give you information.

School discipline means how schools punish students for breaking rules. For example, schools can:

  • Give students detention.
  • Suspend students. Suspend means students are kicked out of school for a limited time.
  • Expel students. Expel means students are kicked out of school for a long time.

New Mexico public schools expel Native American students more often than white students. Gallup-McKinley County Schools is the reason for most of this difference. Gallup-McKinley County Schools is in western New Mexico.

We wrote a story about how Gallup-McKinley County Schools expels students more often than in the rest of the state. Gallup-McKinley County Schools calls the police on students more than the rest of the state.

Mike Hyatt is the superintendent of the Gallup-McKinley County Schools. He did not respond to our questions. He called our story “completely false.” He said Gallup-McKinley County Schools expelled 15 students in the last 7 years.

But we found data that said Gallup-McKinley County Schools expelled students at least 211 times between fall 2016 and spring 2020.

We talked to many families in Gallup-McKinley County Schools. Many said they thought the district was harsh. Families also said school discipline is confusing.

Roxanne Arthur was a social worker. She worked with Gallup-McKinley County Schools.

Roxanne works for the Native American Disability Law Center. She said families do not understand the school discipline process. Some families do not speak English. That makes school discipline hard to understand.

Roxanne said, “I don't think the time is taken to really explain the situation to a parent.”

This guide explains how school discipline works in Gallup-McKinley County Schools and other New Mexico public schools.

  • Some rules come from the national government. All schools must follow these rules.
  • Some rules come from the state. All New Mexico schools must follow these rules.
  • Some rules come from the Gallup-McKinley County Schools handbook. Gallup-McKinley County Schools must follow these rules.

You can visit this website to learn about rules in other states. You can also ask school officials about the rules in your state.

This guide answers these questions about discipline in New Mexico schools:

  • Do New Mexico schools tell parents when they discipline students?
  • Can New Mexico schools call the police on students?
  • How do New Mexico schools decide how to discipline students?
  • Do New Mexico schools have to hold disciplinary hearings for students?
  • Can New Mexico schools search students or their things?
  • What rights do students with disabilities have?
  • How does Gallup-McKinley County Schools decide how to discipline students?
  • Does discipline mean Gallup-McKinley students cannot play sports?
  • How can I complain about schools in New Mexico?

You can ask us questions at NMSchools@propublica.org.

Do New Mexico schools tell parents when they discipline students?

Schools in New Mexico have to tell parents when they discipline students. Schools must:

  • Call parents.
  • Meet parents in person.
  • Or send a written note to parents.

If a school is kicking a student out, it has to tell parents why.

The student can say that the school is wrong. The school has to show how it knows the student broke a rule. The school has to let the student share their side of what happened.

Can New Mexico schools call the police on students?

All schools in the United States have to call the police if a student has a gun at school.

Gallup-McKinley County Schools says it will call the police if a student:

  • Sexually assaults someone (hurts someone sexually).
  • Commits aggravated assault (hurts someone badly).
  • Breaks into the school.
  • Sells or gives out drugs or alcohol.

Gallup-McKinley County Schools can call police if a student:

  • Fights.
  • Does graffiti.
  • Brings drugs or alcohol to school.
  • Breaks other serious rules.

How do New Mexico schools decide how to discipline students?

Each school district makes its own rules for how to discipline students.

Schools in New Mexico cannot hurt students.

The U.S. government has a rule that says schools need to expel students for 1 year if they bring a gun to school. But schools don’t have to follow the rule all the time.

Do New Mexico schools have to hold disciplinary hearings for students?

Students can’t be kicked out of school for more than 10 days without a disciplinary hearing.

Disciplinary hearings are meetings. The meeting usually includes:

  • The student.
  • Their parent or caregiver.
  • People who work for the school district.

The school district needs to tell parents there is going to be a hearing. The district can send a letter in the mail or give it to parents in person. In New Mexico, this letter has to:

  • Be sent 5 or more days before the hearing.
  • Explain what rules the student broke.
  • Explain what discipline the student could get.
  • Tell you when and where the hearing is.
  • Tell you they can discipline the student even if you do not go to the hearing.
  • Tell you how to reschedule.
    • Families in Gallup-McKinley can call 505-721-1074

At hearings in New Mexico, you can:

  • Ask to have someone translate for you. You do not have to pay money for a translator.
  • Tell your side of the story.
  • Bring evidence and witnesses.
  • Bring a lawyer.
    • You have to tell the school 3 days before the hearing if you want to bring a lawyer.
  • Ask for a recording or notes from the meeting.

The person in charge of discipline makes a decision after the hearing. They should only use evidence from the hearing to decide. The school district needs to prove the student broke the rules.

They write the family a letter within 10 days of the hearing. The letter tells the family what discipline the student will get.

Can New Mexico schools search students or their things?

Courts in the United States have said that students should not be searched without “reasonable suspicion.” Reasonable suspicion means the school has a valid reason to think the student broke a rule.

New Mexico rules say school officials need a witness when they search a student. A witness is an extra person who watches what happens. The witness and the school official must be the same gender as the student.

What rights do students with disabilities have?

Some students with disabilities have individualized education programs, or IEPs. An IEP says what special education services the student gets.

Schools in the United States cannot suspend or expel students with IEPs for more than 10 days if:

  • The student broke a rule because of their disability.
  • The student broke a rule because the school did not follow their IEP.

The school has a meeting to decide if the student broke a rule for one of these reasons.

Schools can suspend students with IEPs for 45 days if the student brings a gun or drugs to school. The school would need to have a special meeting first.

The school needs to keep teaching suspended students who have disabilities. For example, the school can provide schoolwork to take home.

How does Gallup-McKinley County Schools decide how to discipline students?

Gallup-McKinley decides how to discipline students based on:

  • The student’s age.
  • What rule the student broke.
  • If the student has been in trouble before.

Gallup-McKinley can change its rules. The district puts the rules on gmcs.org. You can ask your student’s teacher about the rules.

There are four levels of discipline:

  • Level 1: Warnings and conversations with students or parents.
    • Level 1 is for students who break small rules like:
      • Missing school a few times.
      • Not wearing the right clothes.
      • Interrupting class.
      • Cheating.
      • Using their cellphone.
      • Gambling.
      • Having energy drinks.
  • Level 2: Suspension from clubs, sports and other after-school activities.
    • Level 2 is for any of the rules in Level 1 or for things like:
      • Bringing tobacco or cigarettes to school.
      • Bringing a small knife to school.
      • Acting out or causing a disruption.
      • Hurting someone.
      • Showing affection publicly.
    • At Level 2, students can also:
      • Get detention.
      • Get in-school or overnight suspension.
      • Have to pay for anything they break or destroy.
  • Level 3: Short suspension from school and activities.
    • Level 3 is for when a student breaks rules many times or breaks serious rules. Serious issues include:
      • Fighting.
      • Threatening to hurt someone with a weapon.
      • Bringing or using drugs or alcohol at school.
    • At Level 3, the student is either:
      • Suspended for 3 to 5 days from school and activities.
      • Taken out of school immediately for 1 day.
  • Level 4: Suspension from school and activities.
    • Level 4 is for when a student breaks rules many times or breaks very serious rules. Very serious issues include:
      • Hurting someone sexually.
      • Bringing weapons to school.
      • Breaking into the school.
      • Setting something on fire.
      • Selling or giving out drugs or alcohol.
    • At Level 4, the student is:
      • Suspended from school for 5 to 10 days.
      • Not allowed to do clubs, sports or other activities for 1 year.

The school needs to have a disciplinary hearing if it wants to:

  • Suspend a student for more than 10 days.
  • Expel a student. Being expelled from Gallup-McKinley County Schools used to mean being removed from school for at least 90 days. Now being expelled means a student cannot ever come back to school.

The school district can decide to discipline the student at any level they want.

Does discipline mean Gallup-McKinley students cannot play sports?

Suspended or expelled students cannot play sports.

The school can suspend students from sports, clubs and other after-school activities without a hearing.

  • Level 2 Discipline:
    • The student cannot play sports for however long the school district says.
  • Level 3 Discipline:
    • First time the student gets in trouble: The student cannot play sports for 30 days.
    • Second time the student gets in trouble: The student cannot play sports for 45 days or until the end of the season.
    • If the student uses or brings drugs or alcohol to school: The student cannot play sports for 45 days or until the end of the season.

Gallup-McKinley can change its rules. The district puts the rules on gmcs.org. You can also ask your student’s teacher about the rules.

How can I complain about schools in New Mexico?

You can disagree with how the school wants to discipline your child. You can ask for an appeal. Appeal means you ask the district to look again at your child’s case.

You must tell the district you want to appeal. You have 10 school days to do this after getting the decision.

Your district does not have to review all cases. Reviews should be done in 15 days.

The 2022-2023 handbook for Gallup-McKinley County Schools does not tell families how to appeal.

You have the right to complain if you are not happy with discipline at your school.

It is against the law for the school to punish you or your student for complaining.

Bryant Furlow of New Mexico In Depth and Maya Miller of ProPublica contributed reporting. Rebecca Monteleone translated this story into plain language.

by Asia Fields

As New York Pays Out Millions In Police Misconduct Settlements, Lawmakers Ask Why They Keep Happening

2 years ago

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Nearly two decades ago, the New York Police Department drew national headlines for its violent response to protests outside the 2004 Republican National Convention. Officers wrapped demonstrators in orange mesh netting and shipped them off to a dirty Manhattan pier, where they were fingerprinted and held, some for more than 24 hours.

The protesters sued, and after years of tense litigation, the city settled what the New York Civil Liberties Union then called the “largest protest settlement in history” — an $18 million payout to resolve claims that the police had violated the civil rights of about 1,800 people.

“While no amount of money can undo the damage inflicted by the NYPD’s actions during the Convention, we hope and expect that this enormous settlement will help assure that what happened in 2004 will not happen again,” Christopher Dunn, lead counsel in the NYCLU cases, said at the time.

But in June 2020, just six years after that settlement, history repeated. Facing mass demonstrations, this time in the wake of the Minneapolis police killing of George Floyd, the NYPD again became the focus of intense media scrutiny for its bellicose approach to protests, perhaps most notably for boxing in, or “kettling,” about 300 protesters in the Bronx before violently arresting them. Those protesters also sued, and earlier this month their lawyers announced yet another “historic” settlement, in which each protester would get $21,500. The total payout could cost taxpayers between $4 million and $6 million.

Now, the durability of that narrative is prompting some lawmakers to question not just the NYPD’s actions but whether the city effectively enables expensive payouts by aggressively defending against charges of police misconduct instead of leveraging its legal might to pressure the NYPD to change its behaviors and practices. Indeed, while the city charter requires the Law Department to represent “the city and every agency thereof,” it also says the department should “maintain, defend and establish” the interests of “the people.”

In the Floyd and RNC cases, city lawyers fought tooth and nail in court against misconduct charges, employing a litigation strategy that challenged disclosures and claims at every turn — an approach that critics say can prolong cases and actually drive up costs.

“It’s a bad practice,” said Councilmember Gale Brewer, a Manhattan Democrat, who plans on questioning Law Department officials when they appear before the City Council’s Committee on Governmental Operations for a budget hearing on March 22.

“The public may not care about the person getting arrested or the cops, but they do care about the money,” she said of settlements to civil rights lawsuits. “It’s millions and millions of dollars. And there’s always a push — ‘How can you push those settlements to be less?’ Well, that doesn’t answer the question: Why do they keep happening?”

It is a line of inquiry backed by the Council’s speaker, Adrienne Adams, whose spokesperson said in a statement that “city attorneys can play a constructive role in preventing future violations of constitutional rights, and they should.”

“It is a disservice to our city and its taxpayers when an agency tasked with protecting them not only violates their rights, but also passes on the cost back to them,” said Mandela Jones, the spokesperson for the Queens Democrat. “It’s equally bad when that agency is enabled to continue engaging in this problematic conduct that repeats this cycle.”

Spokespeople for the mayor’s office, the NYPD and the Law Department did not respond to requests for comment about the hearing. The NYPD said in a statement earlier this month that the department had “re-envisioned” much of its training and policies around “large-scale demonstrations” after the Floyd protests based on the recommendations of “three outside agencies who carefully investigated that period.” The Law Department has previously told ProPublica it takes its ethical responsibilities seriously and litigates each case with an open mind. “While we work to vigorously protect the interests of the city in every case, we are always mindful that opposing parties are also citizens who should be treated with respect and whose claims should be evaluated fairly,” a department spokesperson said last year.

The public scrutiny follows a December report from ProPublica and New York Magazine that examined the city’s Special Federal Litigation Division, the little-known unit within the Law Department that exclusively handles federal civil rights lawsuits alleging abuses by police officers, jail guards and prosecutors. Former attorneys described a culture within Special Fed that prizes winning, even if it means drawing out cases with merit and negotiating them down to the smallest possible payout. The hard-line approach has sometimes drawn rebukes from the bench. Last year, for example, in the Floyd protest case, a judge dressed down a senior Special Fed lawyer for failing to obey court orders. The city has also been sanctioned multiple times for not turning over records in a timely manner. (That lawyer has since been fired, though she denied any wrongdoing.)

Many within the Law Department see themselves as guardians of the city’s treasury, and argue that aggressively defending police cases weeds out frivolous claims, preventing undeserving plaintiffs from obtaining public monies that could otherwise fund city services. But plaintiffs’ attorneys and advocates for police reform counter that Special Fed actually wastes money and public trust by aggressively, and sometimes expensively, defending cases involving clear police misconduct. The NYPD has previously said that any allegation it has “undue influence” over Special Fed and its defense of officers is “outrageous and inaccurate.”

The purpose of damages in federal civil-rights litigation is “to incentivize the government to change policy so it doesn’t face the same exposure for similar kinds of violations in the future,” said Gideon Oliver, a civil rights attorney who represents protesters. “It doesn’t work if the city and the Law Department view cutting those checks as just the cost of doing business.”

Settlements and payouts for police misconduct cases totaled $121 million last year, up from about $85 million the year before, according to an analysis of city data by the Legal Aid Society, the city’s primary provider of indigent legal services. (The sharp increase was largely attributable to six payouts of $10 million or more stemming from decades-old wrongful conviction cases.) A Washington Post analysis of settlement data last year showed that, between 2010 and 2020, more than 5,000 NYPD officers were named in two or more claims, accounting for 45% of New York City taxpayer dollars spent on misconduct cases.

Meanwhile, the full price tag for lawsuits related to the Floyd protests will likely grow well beyond this month’s multimillion-dollar settlement. As of last July, 565 claims had been filed over the NYPD’s policing of the demonstrations, according to records maintained by the city’s chief financial officer, with 220 of them having cumulatively settled, many pre-litigation, for nearly $7 million. A consolidation of lawsuits that seeks widespread reform of how the police handle protests is also still active in Manhattan federal court.

An effort in the early years of then-Mayor Bill de Blasio’s first term sought to change the culture within the Law Department, pushing attorneys to think of their primary client as the broader public, not just the named officer in any given lawsuit. But that effort largely withered as the mayor’s relationship with the NYPD and its unions deteriorated. Brewer, citing the story by ProPublica and New York Magazine, said the role of the Law Department and how it represents the city should be subject to public debate. Lawyers for protesters agreed.

“The Council has an important opportunity when it’s approving its budget to demand that the city take a different approach to widespread NYPD legal violations,” said the NYCLU’s Dunn, who is also working on Floyd protest litigation. “When they’re there asking for large sums of public funds, the City Council should be demanding the Law Department be more responsible in the way it's addressing litigation like this.”

by Jake Pearson

“He Has a Battle Rifle”: Uvalde Police Waited to Enter Classroom, Fearing Firepower From Gunman’s AR-15

2 years 1 month ago

This article was originally published by The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan local newsroom that informs and engages with Texans. Sign up for The Brief Weekly to get up to speed on their essential coverage of Texas issues.

This story includes graphic descriptions of injuries, and one graphic image taken from inside a classroom. We are not publishing images of injured or deceased victims.

UVALDE, Texas — Once they saw a torrent of bullets tear through a classroom wall and metal door, the first police officers in the hallway of Robb Elementary School concluded they were outgunned. And that they could die.

The gunman had an AR-15, a rifle design used by U.S. soldiers in every conflict since Vietnam. Its bullets flew toward the officers at three times the speed of sound and could have pierced their body armor like a hole punch through paper. They grazed two officers in the head, and the group retreated.

Uvalde Police Department Sgt. Daniel Coronado stepped outside, breathing heavily, and got on his radio to warn the others.

“I have a male subject with an AR,” Coronado said.

The dispatch crackled on the radio of another officer on the opposite side of the building.

“Fuck,” that officer said.

“AR,” another exclaimed, alerting others nearby.

Almost a year after Texas’ deadliest school shooting killed 19 children and two teachers, there is still confusion among investigators, law enforcement leaders and politicians over how nearly 400 law enforcement officers could have performed so poorly. People have blamed cowardice or poor leadership or a lack of sufficient training for why police waited more than an hour to breach the classroom and subdue an amateur 18-year-old adversary.

But in their own words, during and after their botched response, the officers pointed to another reason: They were unwilling to confront the rifle on the other side of the door.

A Texas Tribune investigation, based on police body cameras, emergency communications and interviews with investigators that have not been made public, found officers had concluded that immediately confronting the gunman would be too dangerous. Even though some officers were armed with the same rifle, they opted to wait for the arrival of a Border Patrol SWAT team, with more protective body armor, stronger shields and more tactical training — even though the unit was based more than 60 miles away.

“You knew that it was definitely an AR,” Uvalde Police Department Sgt. Donald Page said in an interview with investigators after the school shooting. “There was no way of going in. … We had no choice but to wait and try to get something that had better coverage where we could actually stand up to him.”

“We weren’t equipped to make entry into that room without several casualties,” Uvalde Police Department Detective Louis Landry said in a separate investigative interview. He added, “Once we found out it was a rifle he was using, it was a different game plan we would have had to come up with. It wasn’t just going in guns blazing, the Old West style, and take him out.”

Uvalde school district Police Chief Pete Arredondo, who was fired in August after state officials cast him as the incident commander and blamed him for the delay in confronting the gunman, told investigators the day after the shooting he chose to focus on evacuating the school over breaching the classroom because of the type of firearm the gunman used.

“We’re gonna get scrutinized (for) why we didn’t go in there,” Arredondo said. “I know the firepower he had, based on what shells I saw, the holes in the wall in the room next to his. … The preservation of life, everything around (the gunman), was a priority.”

None of the officers quoted in this story agreed to be interviewed by the Tribune.

The gunman’s AR-15-style rifle lays in a supply closet of Room 111 at Robb Elementary School. (Law enforcement photo obtained by The Texas Tribune)

That hesitation to confront the gun allowed the gunman to terrorize students and teachers in two classrooms for more than an hour without interference from police. It delayed medical care for more than two dozen gunshot victims, including three who were still alive when the Border Patrol team finally ended the shooting but who later died.

Mass shooting protocols adopted by law enforcement nationwide call on officers to stop the attacker as soon as possible. But police in other mass shootings — including at Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, and the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida — also hesitated to confront gunmen armed with AR-15-style rifles.

Even if the law enforcement response had been flawless and police had immediately stopped the gunman, the death toll in Uvalde still would have been significant. Investigators concluded most victims were killed in the minutes before police arrived.

But in the aftermath of the shooting, there has been little grappling with the role the gun played. Texas Republicans, who control every lever of state government, have talked about school safety, mental health and police training — but not gun control.

A comprehensive and scathing report of law enforcement’s response to the shooting, released by a Texas House investigative committee chaired by Republican Rep. Dustin Burrows in July, made no mention of the comments by law enforcement officers in interviews that illustrated trepidation about the AR-15.

Other lawmakers have taken the position that the kind of weapon used in the attack made no difference.

“This man had enough time to do it with his hands or a baseball bat, and so it’s not the gun. It’s the person,” Sen. Bob Hall, R-Edgewood, said in a hearing a month after the shooting.

Republican state and legislative leaders, who are in the midst of the first legislative session since the shooting, are resisting calls for gun restrictions, like raising the age to purchase semi-automatic rifles like the AR-15. Republican Gov. Greg Abbott has suggested such a law would be unconstitutional, while House Speaker Dade Phelan said he doubts his chamber would support it.

Abbott, Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick and four Republican members of the Legislature — Phelan, Hall, Burrows and Rep. Ryan Guillen, chairman of the House committee that will hear all gun-related proposals, declined to discuss the findings of this story or did not respond. Two gun advocacy groups, Texas Gun Rights and the Texas State Rifle Association, also did not respond.

Limiting access to these kinds of rifles may not decrease the frequency of mass shootings, which plagued the country before the rifle became popular among gun owners. During the decade that the federal assault weapons ban was in place, beginning in 1994, the number of mass shootings was roughly the same as in the decade prior, according to a mass shooting database maintained by Mother Jones. It also would not address the root causes that motivate mass shooters, merely limit the lethality of the tools at their disposal.

Relatives of Uvalde victims, like Jesse Rizo, whose 9-year-old niece Jackie Cazares was killed in the shooting, say the comments by police who responded in Uvalde are undeniable proof that rifles like the AR-15 should be strictly regulated.

“(Police) knew the monster behind the door was not the kid. It’s the rifle the kid is holding,” said Rizo, referring to the 18-year-old gunman. “It’s the freaking AR that they’re afraid of. … Their training doesn’t say sit back and wait.”

Jesse Rizo, the uncle of Robb Elementary victim Jackie Cazares, 9, said that the police “knew the monster behind the door was not the kid. It’s the rifle the kid is holding.” (Evan L’Roy/The Texas Tribune) A Weapon of War

Officers arriving at Robb Elementary on May 24 had similar reactions as they realized that the gunman had an AR-15.

“You know what kind of gun?” state Trooper Richard Bogdanski asked in a conversation captured on his body-camera footage outside of the school.

“AR. He has a battle rifle,” a voice responded.

“Does he really?” another asked.

“What’s the safest way to do this? I’m not trying to get clapped out,” Bogdanski said.

They had good reason to worry: The AR-15 was designed to efficiently kill humans.

ArmaLite, a small gunmaker in California, designed the AR-15 in the late 1950s as a next-generation military rifle. Compared with the U.S. Army’s infantry rifle at the time, the AR-15 was less heavy, had a shorter barrel and used lighter ammunition, allowing soldiers to carry more on the battlefield. It also fired a smaller-caliber bullet but compensated for it by increasing the speed at which it is propelled from the barrel.

A declassified 1962 Department of Defense report from the Vietnam War found the AR-15 would be ideal for use by South Vietnamese soldiers, who were smaller in stature and had less training than their American counterparts, for five reasons: its easy maintenance, accuracy, rapid rate of fire, light weight and “excellent killing or stopping power.”

“The lethality of the AR-15 and its reliability record were particularly impressive,” the authors reported.

Its bullets could also penetrate the body armor worn by the initial responding officers to Robb Elementary, an added level of danger they were aware of. While most departments, including the city of Uvalde’s, have rifle-rated body armor, it is not typically worn by officers on patrol because of its added weight.

“Had anybody gone through that door, he would have killed whoever it was,” Uvalde Police Department Lt. Javier Martinez told investigators the day after the shooting. You “can only carry so many ballistic vests on you. That .223 (caliber) round would have gone right through you.”

A rifle cartridge identical to the ammunition used in the Robb Elementary shooting. (Photo illustration by Evan L’Roy/The Texas Tribune)

Coronado echoed the concern in his own interviews with investigators about the moment he realized the gunman had a battle rifle.

“I knew too it wasn’t a pistol. ... I was like, ‘Shit, it’s a rifle,’” he said. He added, “The way he was shooting, he was probably going to take all of us out.”

The AR-15 is less powerful than many rifles, such as those used to hunt deer or other large game. But it has significantly more power than handguns, firing a bullet that has nearly three times the energy of the larger round common in police pistols.

The AR-15 also causes more damage to the human body. Handgun bullets typically travel through the body in a straight line, according to a 2016 study published by The Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery. High-energy bullets become unstable as they decelerate in flesh, twisting and turning as they damage a wider swath of tissue. This creates “not only a permanent cavity the size of the caliber of the bullet, but also a … second cavity often many times larger than the bullet itself.”

The Defense Department report detailed this effect in plainer language, describing the AR-15’s performance in a firefight with Viet Cong at a range of 50 meters: “One man was shot in the head; it looked like it exploded. A second man was hit in the chest; his back was one big hole.”

The Defense Department placed its first mass order for the rifle in 1963, calling its version the M16, and based each of its service rifles until 2022 on this design. The only significant difference between the military and civilian versions of the AR-15 is that the military rifle can fire automatically, meaning the user can depress the trigger to shoot multiple rounds. The civilian AR-15 is semi-automatic, requiring a trigger pull for each round.

In the context of mass shootings, it is a distinction without a meaningful difference: Both rates of fire can kill a roomful of people in seconds.

That’s what happened in Uvalde.

In two and a half minutes, before any police officer set foot inside the school, the gunman fired more than 100 rounds at students and teachers from point-blank range. Several victims lost large portions of their heads, photos taken by investigators show. Bullets tore gashes in flesh as long as a foot. They shattered a child’s shin, nearly severed another’s arm at the elbow, ripped open another’s neck, blasted a hole the size of a baseball in another’s hip. Other rounds penetrated the wall of Room 111, passed through the empty Room 110, punctured another wall and wounded a student and teacher in Room 109, who survived.

When medics finally reached the victims, there was nothing they could do for most, they said in interviews with investigators. Eighteen of the 21 were pronounced dead at the school. Police assigned each a letter of the alphabet and took DNA samples so they could be identified by family.

Rifle Popularity Surges

Ruben Torres, who saw what the rifle can do in combat while serving as a Marine infantryman in Iraq and Afghanistan, never imagined someone would use it to try and kill his daughter, Khloie, who was wounded by bullet fragments at Robb Elementary.

The Corps spends so much time drilling firearm safety into Marines that Torres can recite the rules from memory. Even now, he has no objection to civilians owning AR-15s, but he thinks they should be required to complete training like soldiers because too many who buy one treat it like a toy.

Ruben Torres, whose daughter, Khloie, was wounded in the Robb Elementary shooting, served as a Marine infantryman in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has no objection to civilians owning AR-15s but thinks they should be required to complete training like soldiers do. (Evan L’Roy/The Texas Tribune)

“You get people that never served in the military or law enforcement, and yet they’re wannabes,” Torres said. “They purchase this weapons system, not having a clue how to use it, the type of power and the level of maturity needed to even operate it.”

It was customers seeking a military experience who helped spur the rifle’s surge in popularity over the past 15 years, gun industry researchers say. Civilians have been able to buy an AR-15 since the mid-1960s, but for decades it was a niche product whose largest customer segment included police SWAT units.

A federal assault weapons ban expired in 2004, creating a new opportunity to market rifles like the AR-15 to the general public, said Timothy Lytton, a professor at the Georgia State University College of Law who researches the gun industry.

Since 1990, More Military-Style Rifles Became Available

The number of military-style rifles, including AR-15 and AK-style, produced or imported in the U.S. went from about 74,000 in 1990 to a national high of almost 2.8 million in 2020. Since 1990, an estimated 24.4 million of these rifles have been in circulation.

(Source: National Shooting Sports Foundation. Credit: Drew An-Pham/Texas Tribune.)

“In the 2000s, there was a shift in the industry’s marketing to people who are not just looking for self-defense, but people who are also looking for some sort of tactical experience,” Lytton said. He said this new consumer wanted to “simulate military combat situations.”

Sales of the rifle exploded. The National Shooting Sports Foundation, a prominent trade group, estimates American gunmakers produced 1.4 million semi-automatic rifles like the AR-15 in 2015, excluding exports — a figure 10 times higher than a decade earlier. This group of semi-automatic rifles accounted for 89% of the rifles made by domestic manufacturers in 2020, according to government and industry data.

As it grew more popular with the public, the rifle also became more popular with mass shooters. AR-15-style rifles weren’t used in any mass shootings until 2007, according to the mass shooting database maintained by Mother Jones, which includes indiscriminate killings of at least three people in public places, excluding crimes that stem from robbery, gang activity or other conventionally explained motives.

Gunmen used the rifle in 5% of attacks that decade and 27% in the 2010s. 2022 cemented the AR-15 as the weapon of choice for mass shooters. They wielded the rifle in 67% of the 12 massacres that year, including a parade in Illinois where seven were slain and a supermarket shooting in New York that killed 10.

The death toll in Uvalde exceeded them both.

The Gunman’s Purchase

Little is known about what motivated the shooter in Uvalde or why he targeted the elementary school he once attended. But signs of planning, and a fixation on guns, stretched back months.

Beginning in late 2021, he began buying accessories: an electronic gun sight, rifle straps, shin guards, a vest with pockets to hold body armor and a hellfire trigger, which can be snapped onto semi-automatic weapons to allow near-automatic fire.

He faced a single significant obstacle to assembling an arsenal: Under Texas law, the minimum age to purchase long guns like rifles is 18. That hindrance vanished on May 16, 2022, his 18th birthday. He ordered an AR-15-style rifle from the website of Daniel Defense, a gunmaker that has pioneered marketing firearms via social media.

Its sleek Instagram videos often feature young men rapidly firing the company’s rifles, wearing outfits that resemble combat uniforms. Other posts feature members of the U.S. military. A lawsuit filed by Uvalde victims’ families against Daniel Defense alleges the gunmaker’s marketing intentionally targets vulnerable young men driven by military fantasies.

The company rejected these claims and cast the lawsuit as an attempt to bankrupt the gun industry.

“To imply that images portraying the heroic work of our soldiers risking their lives in combat inspires young men back home to shoot children is inexcusable,” then-CEO Marty Daniel said last year. The case is ongoing.

Federal law requires weapons purchased online to be picked up at a licensed dealer, which also performs a background check. The Uvalde gunman had no criminal history and had never been arrested, ensuring he would pass. He had the Daniel Defense rifle shipped to Oasis Outback, a gun store in town.

The gunman visited the store alone three times between May 17 and May 20. First, he purchased a Smith & Wesson AR-15-style rifle, then returned to buy 375 rounds of ammunition, then came back again to pick up the Daniel Defense rifle. Surveillance footage from the shop shows an employee placing the case on the counter and opening it. The gunman picked up the rifle, peered down the barrel and placed his finger on the trigger — a breach of a cardinal rule of gun safety, to never do so until you are ready to fire.

This video shows the person who was the shooter at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde. (Surveillance footage from Oasis Outback)

The gun store’s owner told investigators he was an average customer with no “red flags,” though patrons told FBI agents he was “very nervous looking” and “appeared odd and looked like one of those school shooters.”

An online order he’d placed for 1,740 rifle cartridges arrived at 6:09 p.m. on May 23. In the eight days after he became eligible to purchase firearms, he bought two AR-15-style rifles and 2,115 rounds of ammunition.

He had broken no laws. He had aroused no suspicion with authorities. And, like many mass shooters, he had given no public warning about his plan.

May 24, the day of the Uvalde shooting, was most likely the first time he had ever fired a gun, investigators concluded. To do so with an AR-15 is simple: Insert a loaded magazine, cock the rifle to force a cartridge into the firing chamber, slide the safety switch off and pull the trigger. Still, he initially struggled to attach the magazine correctly in the previous days, a relative recalled to investigators, and it kept falling to the floor.

He figured it out by the time he pointed one of the rifles at his grandmother and shot her in the face, amid a dispute about his cellphone plan. The bullet tore a gash in the right side of her face; she required a lengthy hospitalization but survived. He took only the Daniel Defense rifle to the school, leaving the Smith & Wesson at his grandmother’s truck, which he had stolen, driven three blocks and crashed on the west edge of the elementary campus.

When Other Officers Hesitated

The 77-minute delay in breaching the fourth grade classroom was an “abject failure” that set the law enforcement profession back a decade, the Texas state police director said in June. Police had failed to follow protocol developed after the 1999 Columbine school shooting that states the first priority is to confront shooters and stop the killing. Yet even beyond Uvalde, the performance of police against active shooters with AR-15-style rifles — which were rarely used in mass shootings when the standards were developed — is inconsistent.

AR-15-Style Rifles Are Now More Common in Mass Shootings

Since 1982, AR-15-style rifles have been used in 30 mass shootings — their use significantly rising after the federal assault weapons ban expired in 2004. In 2022, 67% of mass shootings involved at least one AR-15-style weapon.

Note: Mass shootings are defined as the indiscriminate killing of at least three people in a public place, excluding crimes related to domestic violence, robbery and gang activity. (Source: Mother Jones and Texas Tribune analysis. Credit: Drew An-Pham/Texas Tribune.)

When a gunman began firing an AR-15-style rifle in 2016 at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, an officer providing security waited six minutes for backup before pursuing the suspect into the club; he later said his handgun was “no match” for the shooter’s rifle.

Two years later, a sheriff’s deputy at Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida did not confront the AR-15-wielding shooter there, either. Investigators said he instead retreated for four and a half minutes, during which the gunman shot 10 students and teachers, six fatally.

In some instances, police have confronted the rifle without hesitation. Officers killed a gunman who had fatally shot seven people in a 2019 shooting spree in the Texas cities of Midland and Odessa. During the 2021 supermarket shooting in Boulder, Colorado, one of the 10 victims the gunman killed with his AR-15 was one of the first responding officers.

The extreme stress the body experiences in a gunfight slows critical thinking and motor skills, said Massad Ayoob, a police firearms trainer since the 1970s. Officers can overcome this with repeated training that is as realistic as possible, he said. Without it, they are more likely to freeze or retreat.

“Have you ever been in a firefight? Have you ever been in a situation where you were about to die?” said Kevin Lawrence, a law enforcement officer for 40 years and the executive director of the Texas Municipal Police Association. “None of us knows how we’re going to react to that circumstance until we’re in it.”

Improved training that reinforces the expectation that police immediately confront active shooters would improve the likelihood that they do so, said Jimmy Perdue, president of the Texas Police Chiefs Association. But because they attack at random locations and times, he said it is unrealistic to expect that all 800,000 law enforcement officers in the United States would be prepared. That rifles like the AR-15 are especially lethal, he acknowledged, adds an additional mental obstacle for officers.

“All we can do is play the averages … and hope that the training will take place and they’ll be able to understand the gravity of the situation and respond accordingly,” Perdue said. “But there is no guarantee that the one officer that happens to be on duty when this next shooting occurs is going to respond correctly.”

In many cases, whether officers follow active-shooter training is irrelevant. Most mass shootings end in less than five minutes, research from the FBI concluded, often before officers arrive.

This was the case in Newtown, Connecticut, where a gunman killed 26 people at an elementary school in 2012, and in Aurora, Colorado, where another killed 12 people at a movie theater the same year. Both used AR-15-style rifles.

Family members of the Robb Elementary shooting victims and their supporters wait to meet with an aide of a state senator to ask the lawmaker to consider supporting gun reform legislation. (Evan L’Roy/The Texas Tribune) Resistance to Gun Control

Texas has a long, proud and increasingly less-regulated history of gun ownership. It is rooted in a belief in personal responsibility, that average citizens can sensibly own guns to protect themselves and their families and intervene to stop armed criminals in the absence of police.

“Ultimately, as we all know, what stops armed bad guys is armed good guys,” said U.S. Sen. Ted Cruz at the National Rifle Association convention in Houston three days after the Uvalde shooting.

He cited two examples: the Border Patrol team who finally breached the classroom at Robb Elementary and the firearms instructor who shot the gunman who in 2017 attacked a church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, with an AR-15-style rifle. Both actions potentially saved lives. But they failed to prevent the murders of 47 people.

This year a group of Uvalde families has been regularly visiting the Capitol to push for stricter gun laws, including to raise the age someone can legally purchase AR-15-style rifles to 21.

The mass shootings since 2016 in Dallas, Sutherland Springs, Santa Fe, El Paso and Midland-Odessa — all but one committed with a semi-automatic rifle — did not persuade the Legislature to restrict access to guns. Instead, lawmakers relaxed regulations, including allowing the open carry of handguns without a license or training. And Democrats who have proposed a number of new restrictions this session admit that their bills face nearly insurmountable odds.

The AR-15s carried by state troopers at the Capitol give Sandra Torres flashbacks. Her daughter, 10-year-old Eliahna, a promising softball player, died at Robb Elementary. Sandra never got to tell her she’d made the all-star team. Mack Segovia, Eliahna’s stepfather, didn’t grow up around guns, but he’s seen enough pictures of 200-pound wild hogs his friends tore up with AR-15s while hunting to understand what the rifle did to his daughter.

The couple has made the six-hour round trip to Austin five times already, squeezing with other families into tiny offices for meetings with lawmakers to ask for what they think are commonsense regulations. Most legislators are cordial, but sometimes the families can tell they are being rebuffed, Torres said. Her partner recalled how the House speaker drove 360 miles from his home in Beaumont to Uvalde to tell families he did not support new gun laws, which struck him as a hell of a long way for a man to travel to say: Sorry, I can’t help you.

The experience is frustrating. Torres and Segovia said they did not have a strong opinion about guns until their daughter was taken from them by a young man who bought one designed for combat, no questions asked. They said they feel compelled, if Eliahna’s death served any purpose, to make it harder for other people to do the same.

“Those were babies,” Segovia said. “I promise you, if it happened to those people in the Senate, or the governor, it would be different.”

Sandra Torres and her partner, Mack Segovia, dedicated a room in their new house to Eliahna Torres, 10, who was killed at Robb Elementary. (Evan L’Roy/The Texas Tribune)

Lomi Kriel contributed reporting.

by Zach Despart, The Texas Tribune

Questions Shadow These Items From a Renowned Art Collection

2 years 1 month ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week.

Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica have identified at least nine objects once owned by James and Marilynn Alsdorf that have been sent back to their countries of origin since the late 1980s. Nepali activists — and government officials, in one case — are pressing for the return of more Alsdorf objects donated to the Art Institute of Chicago, saying they have evidence the pieces may have been looted and sold on the art market. (Marilynn Alsdorf’s son and an attorney for her trust declined to comment for this story.)

Returned Objects

Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica

Sculpture of Tara: The Yale University Art Gallery in May returned to Nepal a stone sculpture of a goddess that had once belonged to the Alsdorfs. The Alsdorfs had sold the piece in a 2002 Sotheby’s auction; it was later donated to the gallery.

Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica

Stone stele of Nagaraja: This 12th century piece was one of three objects sent back to Nepal by the Marilynn B. Alsdorf Trust in 2022, according to records obtained by Crain’s and ProPublica.

(Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Figure of Buddha: Estimated to be from the 14th or 15th century, this was one of three objects sent back to Nepal by the Marilynn B. Alsdorf Trust in 2022, records show.

(Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Stone stele of Padmapani: Estimated to be from the 10th or 11th century, this was one of three objects sent back to Nepal by the Marilynn B. Alsdorf Trust in 2022, records show.

(Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Linga with four faces: The Art Institute helped facilitate the return of this object, which Marilynn Alsdorf loaned to the museum, in April 2021. The object, a sixth-century sculpture depicting Shiva, was stolen from a shrine in Nepal in 1984, according to Nepali news reports and records obtained by ProPublica and Crain’s.

(Courtesy of Christie's June 2020 online ancient art catalog)

Marble hare: Christie’s pulled this second to third century Roman piece from a 2020 Alsdorf estate sale after receiving information that it had been linked to a convicted antiquities smuggler. Christie’s helped return the piece to Italy, according to a spokesperson.

(Courtesy of Christie's June 2020 online ancient art catalog)

Bronze eagle: Christie’s pulled this second to third century Roman piece from a 2020 Alsdorf estate sale after receiving information that it had been linked to a convicted antiquities smuggler. Christie’s helped return the piece to Italy, according to a spokesperson.

Lakulisa sculpture (not pictured): Marilynn Alsdorf returned a sculpture of Lakulisa, a figure associated with Shiva, to India in 2000 after researching the piece for a 1997 exhibit at the Art Institute and finding issues with its provenance, according to research by an academic.

Vishnu carving (not pictured): The Art Institute agreed to return to Thailand a decorative stone beam of the god Vishnu, which the Alsdorfs had bought through a New York art dealer in 1967, according to news articles at the time. The Thai government said the carving, which the Alsdorfs’ foundation donated to the museum in 1983, disappeared from a temple in the 1960s.

Contested Objects

(Courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago)

Taleju necklace: The Nepali government asked the Art Institute in August 2021 to repatriate the gilt-copper necklace made for a Hindu goddess. Negotiations over the piece, which was commissioned by a Nepali king in the 17th century, are ongoing.

(Courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago)

Bhairava sculpture: The Alsdorfs loaned this sculpture of a form of Shiva to the Art Institute in 1997, and the museum acquired it in 2014, according to a museum spokesperson. Nepali activists say they’ve located a photo of the piece that shows it was in Nepal during the 1980s and allege it could have only left the country through illicit means. The photo is on a memory card that came with a book about Nepali stone sculptures. Activists don’t know the exact date or location of where the photo was taken. The Art Institute has seen the photo and is reviewing the object’s provenance, the spokesperson said.

(Courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago)

“Buddha Sheltered by the Serpent King Muchalinda”: The Alsdorfs loaned this sculpture to the Art Institute in 1997, and the museum acquired it in 2014, according to a museum spokesperson. Nepali activists have located a photo that they say shows the piece in Nepal in 1970 and say it may have been looted from that site. A spokesperson for the Art Institute said the museum has seen the photo, which is published in an archive created by art history professors, and is reviewing the object’s provenance.

(Courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago)

Wooden Tara: The Alsdorfs loaned this piece to the Art Institute in 1997, and the museum acquired it in 2014, according to a museum spokesperson. Nepali activists have located a photo, published in a 1974 article by a scholar, that they say shows the piece in a temple and is evidence the object may have been illicitly removed from Nepal after that time. The Art Institute has seen the photo but hasn’t concluded the piece is the same, the spokesperson said.

by Elyssa Cherney, Crain’s Chicago Business, and Steve Mills, ProPublica

Nepal Wants a Sacred Necklace Returned. But a Major Museum Still Keeps It on Display.

2 years 1 month ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week.

Eying a rare collection of Asian artifacts, the Art Institute of Chicago turned on the charm to woo a local benefactor.

It arranged a major exhibit to showcase the South and Southeast Asian art that Marilynn Alsdorf had accumulated over decades and published an elegant catalog to commemorate the event. The museum even hired a longtime Alsdorf friend as a curator.

It was “like a card game, or a minuet … a little dancing,” Alsdorf said at the time.

That effort paid off. In 1997, Alsdorf announced at a party of the museum’s Woman’s Board that she would leave approximately 500 objects from Nepal, India and other countries to the Art Institute, saving it the millions of dollars it would have had to spend to build such a collection. And in 2008, the Art Institute opened the Alsdorf Galleries, a tribute to Marilynn and her late husband, James.

But the Alsdorf collection, once so desired, has increasingly become a problem for the Art Institute as it faces questions of ownership history that cast doubt on the museum’s commitment to keeping its galleries free of looted antiquities.

Twenty-four objects from the Alsdorf collection at the Art Institute have incomplete provenance by modern standards, according to a national online registry of museum pieces. No other single collection at the museum that's listed on the registry has as many gaps.

Beyond that, ProPublica and Crain’s Chicago Business have identified at least four Alsdorf pieces at the Art Institute for which there’s evidence that they may have been looted from Nepal and exported illegally.

Among them is an inscribed gilt-copper necklace, embellished with semiprecious stones and intricate designs, which a 17th century Nepali king offered to a Hindu goddess. The Nepali government and activists are pressing for the return of the necklace, which is still on display at the museum.

A necklace said to have been given to the Hindu goddess Taleju by a Nepali king, on display at the Art Institute of Chicago, came from the Alsdorf collection. Nepalis interviewed for this story said they were comfortable with a photo of the necklace being published. (Alyce Henson for Crain’s Chicago Business)

The dispute over the rights to that necklace has dragged on for close to 20 months, raising frustration in Nepal. “I don’t know what else they want,” said Alisha Sijapati, director of the Nepal Heritage Recovery Campaign, which seeks to repatriate stolen objects and has called attention to the case. “The more they delay, it’s damaging to their reputation.”

Crain’s and ProPublica also found that at least nine additional pieces once owned by the Alsdorfs have previously been returned to Nepal and other nations — a pattern that some art historians say should trigger a broader and public examination by the museum of the couple’s collection. The Art Institute was involved in returning two of the pieces: a decorative stone beam from a temple in Thailand, which had been donated to the museum, and a sculpture of the Hindu god Shiva from Nepal, which had been on loan.

The other objects were in the Alsdorfs’ personal collection; one piece was in another museum.

While some museums have taken a more expansive approach to weeding out looted artifacts, the Art Institute lags behind, ProPublica and Crain’s found. Other U.S. museums post information online when they find a problem or repatriate an object; the Art Institute does not. Some museums also maintain an online, public record of repatriations that includes the names of collectors who loaned or donated the contested piece; the Art Institute does not.

A spokesperson for the Art Institute said the museum strives to thoroughly research the objects in its collection and follows industrywide best practices for vetting ownership history or provenance.

The Art Institute takes all repatriation requests “extremely seriously,” the spokesperson, Katie Rahn, said. “Repatriation discussions can be exceptionally complex and can take significant time, but every effort is made to resolve these matters as quickly as possible.”

Concerns about the Alsdorf collection are mounting at a time when museums are drawing scrutiny for their failures to return stolen objects, and even the remains of Native Americans, that are still in their possession.

Art historians and other experts say it’s especially difficult for an underdeveloped country like Nepal to negotiate with a large, world-famous museum like the Art Institute. Nepali officials have lamented that the country’s Department of Archaeology, which handles research into looted objects, is severely understaffed and that coordination between government agencies can be slow.

“Legally, the burden of proof is on the victim,” said Melissa Kerin, an associate professor at Washington and Lee University who specializes in South Asian and Tibetan art and architecture. “They’re the ones already living without the object, but they’re the ones who have to pull together a legal team. We’re talking about a developing country.”

Worshippers light diyas, or oil lamps, at the Kaal Bhairav Hindu shrine in Kathmandu Durbar Square in Nepal’s capital. (Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Nepal’s history of political unrest has made it particularly susceptible to looting; hundreds of sculptures, paintings and other spiritual objects have been stolen from the country since 1960, after it began opening its borders to tourism. As in much of South Asia, sculptures depicting deities are considered to be inhabited by those gods and not mere inanimate idols. Their absence leaves worshippers reeling.

Activists with the Nepal Heritage Recovery Campaign said they have found photos showing three objects in their original locations in the country before the Alsdorfs allegedly bought them and gave them to the Art Institute: a wooden sculpture of the goddess Tara, a stone carving of Buddha and another stone sculpture of a Shiva.

Rahn said that the museum is aware of the photos and is investigating the provenance of those objects, but that it has not determined that all of the photos match its pieces. The Nepali government has not initiated repatriation requests on those objects.

According to Rahn, the Art Institute’s last written communication from Nepal about the necklace was in May 2022, and the museum is waiting for additional information. Nepal’s embassy in Washington said the Archaeology Department is “coordinating” with the Art Institute on questions about the necklace, though activists say the museum has asked for records that may not exist or would be difficult to obtain.

The Art Institute would not say if it has conducted a top-to-bottom review of the Alsdorf collection since Marilynn’s death in 2019. The items donated by the Alsdorfs were vetted by the museum when they were acquired under the standards in place at the time, Rahn said, but those internal policies have evolved — and strengthened — since then. “If new information emerges for any object, we conduct further research,” she said.

The Art Institute created three positions “primarily dedicated” to provenance, including a curator who oversees these efforts across the institution, Rahn said. Two of the positions were created in July 2020 and the third in February 2022, she said, as “research became a bigger priority for the museum.”

Rahn said the museum also had formed a task force last year of “senior curatorial and legal leaders” to help prioritize provenance research, but she would not provide additional details. She said the museum is “considering” posting online information about objects that might be returned in the future.

A sculpture photographed in Nepal in 1970, first image, and a stone carving the Art Institute lists as the “Buddha Sheltered by the Serpent King Muchalinda,” second image, which came from the Alsdorf collection. Activists say the photos show the same object and provide evidence the museum may be in possession of a looted item. (First image: John C. Huntington, courtesy of the John C. and Susan L. Huntington Photographic Archive of Buddhist and Asian Art. Second image: Photo courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago.)

Though the Alsdorfs are both dead, efforts to protect their legacy are ongoing. As part of four recent returns to Nepal, Marilynn Alsdorf’s trust has required the country to agree to not identify the Alsdorfs as the owners in any press releases or other public announcements, according to interviews and records obtained by ProPublica and Crain’s.

Given an opportunity in April 2021 to identify Marilynn Alsdorf as the owner of an object the Art Institute was helping to return to Nepal — the Shiva that had been on loan there — museum officials declined to do so in ArtNews, a major news organization for the arts community.

The Art Institute, however, was not a party to the confidentiality agreement.

“This is all hush hush — very intentionally so,” Kerin said. “It’s protecting the system.”

A Love of Collecting, a Looted Picasso

James and Marilynn Alsdorf supported various museums in their hometown, but perhaps none benefited from a relationship with the couple as much as the Art Institute.

Throughout their lives, the Alsdorfs donated more than $20 million to the Art Institute. James Alsdorf — the son of a Dutch diplomat and a successful owner of a business that produced glass coffee-making equipment — was chair of the museum’s board from 1975 to 1978. Marilynn Alsdorf, who graduated from Northwestern University and worked briefly as a model for commercial and fashion photographers, was a museum trustee and president of its Woman’s Board.

James and Marilynn Alsdorf in 1950. The couple purchased their first South Asian object, a metal sculpture made in Nepal, during a 1955 trip to Paris. (Photo courtesy of christies.com)

The couple purchased their first South Asian object — a metal sculpture made in Nepal — during a 1955 trip to Paris. In the decades that followed, the Alsdorfs grew their acquisitions and their reputation as leading American collectors. And they became especially well known for their holdings from South and Southeast Asia.

While the Alsdorfs enjoyed the thrill of collecting art together, they also seemed to relish their connection with the elite arts world.

“They liked being part of that community of donors to the city, of having a place of success and status,” said David Tunkl, an art dealer who began working with the Alsdorfs in the 1980s.

Whether the Alsdorfs were aware they were purchasing stolen objects or whether they were taken advantage of by unscrupulous dealers may never be known. They acquired much of their collection during their travels in the 1950s and 1960s, an era that many art historians have described as particularly freewheeling.

During those decades, collectors seldom inquired about a piece’s provenance, perhaps loath to learn an object had been illicitly dug out of the ground or taken from a temple, said Erin Thompson, an associate professor of art crime at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York.

“They would’ve seen objects like this being worshipped,” she said. “They should have known.”

The Alsdorfs purchased art all over the world — in India, France and England. They also visited dealers in New York, including Doris Wiener, whose involvement in the illicit trade came to light after the arrest of her daughter Nancy for trafficking in looted objects from Southeast Asia and India. Nancy Wiener pleaded guilty. Attempts to reach Nancy Wiener for comment were not successful; Doris Wiener died in 2011.

Nearly a decade after James Alsdorf’s death in 1990, Marilynn Alsdorf agreed to exhibit her collection at the Art Institute. In a catalog accompanying the 1997 exhibit, Marilynn Alsdorf explained her attraction to art from South and Southeast Asia, saying she and her husband “looked for objects to delight our eyes and souls rather than objects that embodied particular ritual practices or exemplified specific religious texts.”

The contributions Marilynn Alsdorf made to the Art Institute after her husband’s death created the couple’s namesake galleries, a curator’s position at the museum and a professorship at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Today, 110 objects from the Alsdorf collection are on display, the majority in the Asian collection.

Questions about the provenance of some objects began when the Alsdorfs were alive. The first widely known case dates to the mid-1970s, when the Thai Embassy alleged a 1,000-year-old stone carving of the god Vishnu was stolen from a temple and asked the Alsdorfs to return it.

James Alsdorf said at the time that he asked the Thais for evidence to corroborate the claim but never received it, so the piece remained at the Art Institute, where it had been displayed for about 10 years, according to news accounts.

In 1988, Thai officials approached the Art Institute, but the museum defended the Alsdorfs and its right to keep the piece, saying it was bought in good faith — legally through a dealer, according to the news accounts.

The controversy dragged on for months and spurred a protest outside the museum.

Eventually, the Art Institute agreed to return the piece in exchange for receiving an object from the Thais from the same period and of “equal artistic merit.”

Years later, Marilynn Alsdorf returned a sculpture of a Shiva cult figure to India after learning, during research for the 1997 exhibition at the Art Institute, that it was likely stolen from a temple decades earlier.

Her attitude was sharply different in the case of a 1922 painting by Picasso, “Femme en Blanc,” or “Lady in White.” In a lawsuit, a California law school student demanded its return, alleging the painting had been owned by his grandmother before it was stolen by the Nazis during World War II from an art dealer storing it for her in Paris.

Though the German and French governments determined that the Nazis had looted the Picasso, Alsdorf insisted that, because she and her husband had bought it from a reputable dealer, it was hers. She acknowledged, however, that they hadn’t made any inquiries into its provenance, according to a sworn deposition from the case.

Alsdorf said she had no intention of returning the Picasso, valued at roughly $10 million. When a lawyer at the deposition asked why, Alsdorf said: “Because I felt I owned the painting. I still feel I own the painting.”

In the end, Alsdorf admitted no wrongdoing but paid the law student $6.5 million and got to keep the painting. The law student, Tom Bennigson, in an interview recalled Alsdorf as “this supercilious rich person who didn’t want to deal with my claim.”

Alsdorf’s son, Jeffrey Alsdorf of Seattle, declined to comment for this story. He is listed as an executor of his mother’s estate and, with other family members, sits on the board of the Alsdorf Foundation, according to the most recently publicly available tax records. Linda Feinstein, a Chicago lawyer who, according to documents, represents Alsdorf’s trust, did not respond to requests seeking comment.

Following Alsdorf’s death at 94, a flurry of repatriations occurred.

The auction house Christie’s returned two Alsdorf-owned objects to Italy that had been put up for auction during a 2020 estate sale, a Christie’s spokesperson said. After the Art Institute assisted with the return of a sixth century Hindu sculpture to Nepal in 2021, Alsdorf’s estate returned three artifacts to the country the following year, also under the condition that she not be publicly identified as the owner.

The agreements required that Nepal refer to the objects only as coming from a “private collection” and prohibited it from naming the Alsdorfs in any press releases or public statements about the repatriations, according to interviews and records obtained by ProPublica and Crain’s.

Most recently, the Yale University Art Gallery in May returned to Nepal a piece it had acquired that was once owned by the Alsdorfs but had been given to the museum by a later owner, according to a curator at the museum.

“Troublingly Close” Relationships

Though collecting ethics have evolved to acknowledge the prevalence of antiquities trafficking, critics say the standards don’t go far enough.

Ethical guidelines created by the Association of Art Museum Directors, a major professional organization, do not apply to objects acquired before 2008, when the standards were created. The guidelines also don’t apply to objects promised by donors before 2008 but officially given much later.

The AAMD guidelines say “member museums normally should not acquire” ancient art or archaeological material if they cannot be sure the items left their country of origin before 1970 or were legally exported after 1970.

That’s the year UNESCO adopted a sweeping treaty to curb antiquities trafficking, prompting many museums to adopt stricter due diligence protocols. The AAMD guidelines suggest that, before museums acquire new objects, they obtain import and export papers, sale records and other provenance documents.

But Patty Gerstenblith, a distinguished research professor specializing in cultural heritage law at DePaul University, said the guidelines contain “exceptions big enough to drive a truck through.”

She points to a provision that allows museums to keep works with incomplete provenances if a donor signed a promise to give the work as a gift or bequest before 2008 — when the AAMD adopted the so-called 1970 rule. But that standard doesn’t apply if an object was on long-term loan before 2008, the donor had signed a promised gift agreement before 2008 or if the institution had an “expectation” prior to 2008 of receiving it.

Since Marilynn Alsdorf promised to donate much of her collection to the Art Institute in the late 1990s and early 2000s, many of the objects likely fall under these exemptions.

The AAMD also requires museums to post information about ancient art or archaeological material if they acquire an object under an exception. But only objects acquired since 2008 and that meet certain definitions for what is an antiquity must be posted — a small percentage of most museum collections.

The Art Institute of Chicago lists 48 objects on the registry; half are Alsdorf donations.

The AAMD says that its registry helps publicize provenance information that would otherwise not come to light. “This makes possible the kind of provenance research — and possibility for restitution, if appropriate — that is not possible when an object is out of view in a private collection,” an organization spokesperson said in an email.

Worshippers light diyas in the early morning at Ashok Binayak, a Hindu temple, in Kathmandu Durbar Square. (Brooke Herbert for Crain's Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Museums have an incentive not to probe too deeply, according to critics. Conducting rigorous provenance research is time consuming and costly. It also threatens to open the floodgates for repatriation requests and could dissuade potential donors from making contributions.

Robert Linrothe, an associate professor emeritus of art history at Northwestern University who also worked in the education department at the Art Institute in the 1990s, said in an email that the long-term relationship between the museum and donors such as the Alsdorfs has appeared “troublingly close.”

“Many of us have warned of a pattern of turning a blind eye to dishonorable collecting practices that can be traced back to colonial times,” he said. “Western museums are now having to face up to this unfortunate legacy.”

The Art Institute, however, said it has adapted. “There is no question that the generally accepted standards for provenance research have evolved,” Rahn said. “As we engage in the work to learn and publish more about an object’s provenance, it is simply inaccurate to suggest that any current gap in provenance is indicative of illegal or unethical behavior.”

But some museums are more transparent. The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston provides the findings of its provenance research online. Last year, it repatriated 13 objects to four different sources, the museum’s senior curator for provenance, Victoria Reed, has said publicly. The museum also lists previous owners and donors.

The San Antonio Museum of Art, meanwhile, allows website users to search its collection for artwork that was repatriated. The website includes information for 16 objects that were returned to Italy in 2021 and 2022, including the names of the private collectors who had donated the items.

Lynley McAlpine, a curatorial fellow at the museum, said in an email that the museum chose to post the information online “because it is the most efficient way for us to provide transparency.”

The Art Institute, by comparison, doesn’t keep an online record of repatriated objects, and it made no returns in 2022, according to Rahn.

An “Overwhelming” Moment

Sweta Baniya stared in disbelief at the copper necklace at the Art Institute. On that summer day in 2021, Baniya, a Nepali academic living in the U.S., had been excited to explore the vast collection of art from her home country, which she’d learned about from a friend.

When Baniya spotted the necklace — a gift from Marilynn Alsdorf — her emotions shifted.

She dropped to her knees, clasped her hands in prayer and wept. Later, as her mind raced with questions, Baniya shared her experience on social media.

“When I saw the necklace, it was just very overwhelming,” Baniya, an assistant professor at Virginia Tech, said in an interview. “It’s so majestic … but it shouldn’t belong” at the Art Institute.

Sweta Baniya, a Nepali academic living in the U.S., found the experience of seeing the Taleju necklace at the Art Institute to be “very overwhelming.” “It’s so majestic,” she said, “but it shouldn’t belong” to the museum (Sam Dean for Crain’s Chicago Business)

The necklace, which was said to have been given to the Hindu goddess Taleju by a Nepali king, contained an inscription in Newari, an ancient language of the Kathmandu Valley.

“Victory to the Mother-Goddess,” the inscription says. It also includes the name of King Pratapamalladeva, who ruled the region from 1641 to 1674, and refers to him as “lord of the kings.”

In Nepal, divine representations of Taleju are hidden from public view. Worshippers are permitted inside her temple just one day a year during a religious festival. Even then, they’re not allowed to see her.

Documents obtained by Crain’s and ProPublica show that the Nepali Embassy in Washington first asked for the necklace to be repatriated in August 2021, after Baniya’s posts stirred interest. The embassy sent the Art Institute an archaeological report saying the necklace disappeared from Taleju’s temple in the 1970s and must have been smuggled out of the country.

Nepali officials don’t know precisely when or how the necklace left the country, key facts to help establish its history. According to museum records, the Alsdorfs bought the necklace from a California dealer in June 1976 and loaned it to the museum about two weeks later. Marilynn Alsdorf donated it to the Art Institute in 2010.

Leslie Darling, the Art Institute’s executive vice president and general counsel, told the Nepali Embassy in a September 2021 letter that the museum took the issue “very seriously” and would look into the provenance of the necklace, according to a copy of the letter obtained by ProPublica and Crain’s.

In May of the following year, Darling asked Nepal for additional records on the necklace. Rahn, the Art Institute spokesperson, said the Nepali government hasn’t responded to that letter. A spokesperson for Nepal’s Archaeology Department said officials are still looking for the evidence they were asked to provide but maintain that the inscription on the necklace is “irrefutable” proof that the necklace belongs to Nepal.

Uddhav Karmacharya, standing in Kathmandu Durbar Square, the high priest of a temple devoted to the Hindu goddess Taleju. He notified the Nepali government about scrolls he found in the temple’s basement that mention a large copper necklace with a description matching the one at the Art Institute. (Brooke Herbert for Crain's Chicago Business and ProPublica)

In addition, Uddhav Karmacharya, the high priest of Nepal’s Taleju temple, has found scrolls in the temple basement showing an inventory of gifts given to the goddess, he said. Karmacharya said he notified his government about the scrolls, which mention a large copper necklace with a description matching the one at the Art Institute and provide evidence of the necklace’s origins.

Karmacharya has never seen the necklace in person but said he still feels a strong connection to it.

“This item is not something to be displayed on the wall and to all these onlookers who don’t have the same belief system,” he said in an interview through an interpreter. “A curator might think it’s very beautiful … but this particular item is priceless.”

There are also some tough questions for the Nepalis about how the necklace left their country, including whether the country’s royal family may have helped sell the necklace in the late 1990s to fund its lavish lifestyle. Much of that family died in a massacre in 2001, and the monarchy has been abolished.

The Art Institute seems to have explored the possibility that the royal family played a role as well. In the May letter to the Nepali Embassy, the museum sought information about “the actions of the Zonal Office and other government or religious officials who may have removed and separated jewelry and ornaments.”

Even if Nepali royals were involved, advocates for repatriation say the museum should return the necklace because it is an item of spiritual significance that is collectively owned by the nation.

Since questions about the necklace have become public, so have details about Bruce Miller, the California dealer who sold the Alsdorfs the necklace. Although he was never charged criminally, Miller was described in a 2014 Indian court case as having worked with an alleged antiquities smuggler in India in 1992.

Miller, through his wife, declined an interview, citing health issues. In an email, he said he was “at a complete loss” as to how the Indian case had anything to do with the Alsdorfs and their collection.

Neither Miller nor his wife addressed his involvement in the case. The smuggler was convicted by a jury for the 1992 offenses but a judge overturned his conviction in 2014, saying the prosecution had not met its burden of proof, according to the ruling and a news article.

Roshan Mishra, standing at the Boudhanath stupa in Kathmandu, is a founding member of the Nepal Heritage Recovery Campaign, which seeks to repatriate stolen objects. (Brooke Herbert for Crain’s Chicago Business and ProPublica)

Roshan Mishra, a founding member of the Nepal Heritage Recovery Campaign, said he understands why repatriations take time. But he said he thinks the Art Institute is stalling, ignoring the strongest proof that comes from the inscription.

“At the end of the day, the necklace belongs to Taleju,” he said. “All of the evidence is there — on the necklace.”

by Elyssa Cherney, Crain’s Chicago Business, and Steve Mills, ProPublica

Have You Faced Barriers to Getting Gender-Affirming Care? Help Us Investigate.

2 years 1 month ago

Major medical associations recognize that access to gender-affirming care, also known as transition-related care, is medically necessary for transgender people, whose mental and physical health may be harmed if they are barred from getting it. Yet conservative politicians across the country have moved to restrict access to gender-affirming care. Our recent investigation found that state and local governments that deny this care to their employees are spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on lawyers to defend their policies in discrimination lawsuits.

We are interested in talking to transgender individuals who have faced barriers when seeking quality gender-affirming care; we want to hear about obstacles you’ve faced in any part of the process, from struggling to find providers to limitations in insurance coverage. Documents, such as health bills or insurance denial letters, are always welcome and helpful for our investigative reporting process.

Our team may not be able to respond to everyone personally, but we will read everything you submit. We understand that sharing personal information may feel risky, and we will not publish any of it without your permission. We appreciate you sharing your story and we take your privacy seriously. We are gathering these stories for the purposes of our reporting, and will contact you if we wish to publish any part of your story.

by Aliyya Swaby, Lucas Waldron and Ash Ngu

This Georgia County Spent $1 Million to Avoid Paying for One Employee’s Gender-Affirming Care

2 years 1 month ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week.

When a sheriff’s deputy in Georgia’s Houston County sought surgery as part of her gender transition, local officials refused to change the department’s health insurance plan to cover it, citing cost as the primary reason.

In the years that followed, the central Georgia county paid a private law firm nearly $1.2 million to fight Sgt. Anna Lange in federal court — far more than it would have cost the county to offer such coverage to all of its 1,500 health plan members, according to expert analyses. One expert estimated that including transition-related care in the health plan would add about 0.1% to the cost of all claims, which would come to roughly $10,000 per year, on average.

Since at least 1998, the county’s plan has excluded coverage for “services and supplies for a sex change,” an outdated term to refer to surgeries or medications related to gender transition. In 2016, the county’s insurance administrator recommended changing the policy to align with a new federal nondiscrimination rule. But Houston County leaders said no.

The county argued that even if the cost of expanding its insurance coverage to include transition-related health care was low on average, it could amount to much more in some years. The county also claimed that expanding the plan’s coverage would spur demands to pay for other, currently excluded benefits, such as abortion, weight loss surgery and eye surgery.

“It was a slap in the face, really, to find out how much they had spent,” said Lange, who filed a federal discrimination lawsuit against the county. “They’re treating it like a political issue, obviously, when it’s a medical issue.”

Major medical associations recognize that access to transition-related care, also known as gender-affirming care, is medically necessary for transgender people, citing evidence that prohibiting it can harm their mental and physical health. And federal judges have consistently ruled that employers cannot categorically exclude gender-affirming care from health care plans, though prior to Lange’s suit, there hadn’t been a ruling covering Georgia. The care can include long-term hormone therapy, chest and genital surgery, and other services that help transgender people align their bodies with their gender identities.

But banning gender-affirming care has become a touchstone of conservative politics. At least 25 states this year are considering or have passed bills that would ban gender-affirming care for minors. Bills in Oklahoma and Texas aim to ban insurance companies from covering transition-related health care for adults as well.

At the same time, state and local government employers are waging long legal battles against covering gender-affirming care for their employees. With recent estimates showing that 0.6% of all Americans older than 13 are transgender, these employers are spending large sums to fight coverage for a small number of people.

ProPublica obtained records showing that two states — North Carolina and Arizona — have spent more than $1 million in attorney fees on legal fights similar to the one in Houston County. Both have claimed in court filings that the decisions they made not to cover the care for employees are purely financial and not discriminatory.

But budget estimates and real-world examples show that the cost of offering coverage of gender-affirming care is negligible. When the state of North Carolina briefly covered gender-affirming care in 2017, the cost amounted to $400,000 — just 0.01% of the health plan’s $3.3 billion annual budget.

Two years later, North Carolina employees sued to get their gender-affirming care covered. The state hired several expert witnesses who expressed professional beliefs contradicting the major medical associations’ standards, including that transition care is unnecessary and even harmful. One expert, whom North Carolina paid $400 per hour, stated in court proceedings that transition care might be a “fad” or “consumer fraud,” similar to the widespread medical use of lobotomies in previous decades.

Julia McKeown, a professor at North Carolina State University and one of several plaintiffs suing North Carolina officials for denying their coverage, spent more than $14,000 out-of-pocket on gender-affirming surgery, pulling from her retirement account and personal savings. “They’re always talking about saving taxpayer money and being judicious with how we spend it,” McKeown said. “But here they are throwing money left and right to score political points, to discriminate, to target.”

Julia McKeown spent more than $14,000 out-of-pocket on gender-affirming surgery after North Carolina refused to cover her care. (Annie Tritt, special to ProPublica)

Officials in North Carolina, Arizona and Houston County, Georgia, did not respond to questions from ProPublica about the amount of money they spent or their reasons for continuing to fight the lawsuits. Dan Perdue, chair of the Houston County Board of Commissioners, referred ProPublica to the county attorney, who declined to comment beyond pointing to existing court documents.

These Places Paid Lawyers Over $1 Million to Try to Avoid Paying for Gender-Affirming Medical Care The total spent includes only direct payments to private law firms from the date the lawsuit was filed through Dec. 31, 2022. Source: Billing records obtained by ProPublica.

Compared to North Carolina and Arizona, Houston County stands out for the huge legal bill it amassed relative to its small size. North Carolina’s employee health plan covers more than 700,000 people and Arizona’s covers over 130,000 people, dwarfing Houston County’s 1,500. Yet Houston County has spent a similar amount of money on legal fees as those states in a shorter time, according to records ProPublica obtained.

In fact, Houston County’s total legal fees on the Lange case have amounted to almost three times its annual physical and mental health budget. “Is this a good use of public money? No,” said Joanna Grossman, a law professor at Southern Methodist University who focuses on sex discrimination. “It’s fair to say that this is an issue where it’s pretty clear they’re going to lose.”

After more than a decade working for the Houston County Sheriff’s Office, Lange came out as a transgender woman to her boss and colleagues in 2017. A therapist had diagnosed her with gender dysphoria, characterized by significant distress at the mismatch between her assigned and actual gender.

Sheriff Cullen Talton, who has been in office since the early 1970s, first thought Lange was joking, according to a legal deposition. When he realized Lange was serious, he told her that he didn’t “believe in” being transgender but that she would have her job as long as she kept working hard.

Lange let herself feel cautiously optimistic. But she soon found that the county’s health plan would not cover any of the surgeries needed to make her body align with her gender — the operations are on a list of procedures that the county explicitly opts out of paying for, which are known as exclusions.

After coming out as transgender, Lange found that her county’s health plan would not cover any of the medical procedures needed to treat her gender dysphoria. (Annie Tritt, special to ProPublica)

Lange’s insurance does cover the hormonal medication she takes regularly, but not the lab work she needs once or twice a year to monitor how her body is responding to it. She receives a bill for $400 each lab visit, which is hard to afford on her $58,000 salary. The bills go to debt collectors, and she pays off smaller amounts when her budget allows.

Lange was able to cobble together several thousand dollars from savings and retirement funds to pay out-of-pocket for a chest surgery in early 2018, but the next surgery she needs costs more than $25,000, well above what she can afford. She sent letters to the insurance administrator and the county asking them to remove the exclusion in 2018 and 2019. Her appeals were denied.

Source: Billing and court records obtained by ProPublica.

In early 2019, in a last-ditch effort, Lange walked into the county board of commissioners’ meeting to ask the board to remove the health plan’s exclusion, hopeful they might hear her out. She mentally prepared herself to broadcast some of her most personal struggles to an audience that seemed less than receptive, bringing her son and a friend with her for support.

As Lange nervously waited for her turn at the podium, she watched someone familiar step up right before her. One of her neighbors had come to ask the county not to agree to her request. Addressing the row of commissioners at the front of the room, he launched into his list of questions: How does Lange’s request relate to her work? Why should taxpayers be on the hook for her surgery? How does her request differ from any kind of elective cosmetic surgery that also isn’t covered by insurance?

Lange asked the Houston County Board of Commissioners to allow the health plan to cover her gender-affirming surgery in February 2019. (Houston Home Journal via Facebook)

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Lange watched, disheartened, as a commissioner reassured the neighbor that the board would not make any changes to the health plan that year. Lange would go on to speak that evening, despite believing it was a futile exercise. “You knew right then and there that no matter what I said, that it wouldn’t matter,” she said. “It’s a really helpless feeling.”

So she turned to the legal system. She worked with a team of attorneys handling a similar case — a lawsuit brought by a transgender employee against Georgia’s university system. In September of 2019, the university system agreed to a settlement that awarded the plaintiff $100,000 and provided all of its employees access to gender-affirming care. Just weeks after the settlement, Lange filed a lawsuit against the county for employment discrimination, arguing that denying her medical care subjected her to “inferior treatment.” Soon after, commissioners unanimously voted to continue excluding gender-affirming care from health coverage for yet another year.

In response to Lange’s lawsuit, the county’s lawyers said health insurance premiums had already soared and that the county wanted to prevent a flurry of requests to remove other exclusions in the plan. The county spent $57,135 — $390 per hour — on a budget expert who concluded that keeping the exclusion in place was “reasonable and consistent with general industry practices.”

The county’s expert argued that removing the exclusion could result in a “catastrophic claim,” in which a member of the county’s health plan seeks multiple surgeries in a single year that, combined, could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. The county’s plan is self-funded, meaning that the employer — not an insurance company — is responsible for paying all enrollees’ medical costs, making it harder for the plan to absorb a high-cost claim.

Lange’s lawyers hired their own budget expert, whose estimate was in line with what other experts, government officials and academics have found. In her report, Lange’s expert wrote that, over time, the financial impact of removing the exclusion would be small, especially since few people would use the benefit. The expert also noted that the county has a separate insurance policy to cover unexpectedly large claims. She estimated that the cost of covering gender-affirming care would be “an amount so low that it would be considered immaterial.”

Without necessary treatment, transgender people are at higher risk for depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide. Russ Toomey, a professor of family studies and human development at the University of Arizona, has helped establish that fact through his research on the mental health of transgender youth. He also has firsthand knowledge of discrimination: Toomey is suing his employer for withholding coverage for gender-affirming care.

When he was recruited for his job in 2015, he knew the university had hired other trans faculty members and believed it was committed to supporting them. In 2016, Arizona’s Department of Administration, which controls the health care plan for public employees like Toomey, chose to keep excluding gender-affirming surgery from its health plan, ignoring the advice of its insurance vendors. That same year, Arizona commissioned an internal analysis, in which a state budget expert described the cost of covering gender-affirming care as “relatively low.” A state employee was directed to delete that sentence from the analysis, according to legal documents.

In 2018, Toomey sought coverage for a hysterectomy to alleviate the distress of his gender dysphoria, and he was denied. In 2019, he filed a lawsuit against the state and its board of regents, which oversees all three of Arizona’s state universities.

Russ Toomey, a professor at the University of Arizona, is suing the state for denying coverage of a hysterectomy. (Annie Tritt, special to ProPublia)

The experience made him “see and feel very intensely” the link he’d studied between gender discrimination and mental health. Toomey regularly feels the anguish of “knowing that I have these organs inside my body that shouldn’t be there” and not being able to afford a hysterectomy. Toomey said the unfairness of Arizona’s health plan hit hard last year, when his friend and colleague, a cisgender woman, was able to obtain coverage for her hysterectomy, while he had been denied. Arizona’s employee health plan covers medically necessary hysterectomies except as part of “gender reassignment surgery.”

He said that he developed a panic disorder over the last couple of years due to the stress of the lawsuit and his inability to access care. When he heard that the university board had spent more than $415,000 to fight the case, Toomey was shocked. “That hurts in the gut to hear,” he said.

The Arizona Board of Regents argued in court filings that it should not be a defendant in the lawsuit because it has no control over the state plan — the board provides health care through a plan controlled by the state. And the state of Arizona argued that it was not legally required to remove the exclusion, a change that it said would be too expensive.

The case is still ongoing in federal court. The state, a named defendant in the case, now has a Democratic governor, Katie Hobbs, whose win last November ended 14 years of Republican control. In response to ProPublica’s request for comment, a Hobbs spokesperson declined to answer specific questions about whether the new administration would continue to defend the exclusion but emphasized the governor’s support for trans Arizonans.

“The Governor’s Office recognizes the need for the expansion of statewide benefits that are all inclusive,” Hobbs’ press secretary, Josselyn Berry, wrote in a statement.

15 States Offered a Health Plan That Didn’t Cover Gender-Affirming Care for State Employees in 2022 Note: Some states have multiple employee health plans with differing policies on coverage for gender-affirming medical care. North Carolina was ordered to remove its exclusion in 2022 by a federal judge, but the state is appealing the ruling. The exclusion was inactive as of December 2022. (Source: ProPublica review of health plans in all 50 states and D.C.)

Like Georgia’s Houston County and the state of Arizona, North Carolina has claimed that its key concern about removing the exclusion is cost. But the statements of officials suggest that’s hardly the only concern.

North Carolina state Treasurer Dale Folwell, one of the named parties in the lawsuit, has consistently referred to gender-affirming care as medically unnecessary, contradicting medical consensus. (North Carolina had briefly removed its exclusion in 2017, before Folwell took office and reinstated it.)

“The legal and medical uncertainty of this elective procedure has never been greater,” he said in a 2018 press release. “Until the court system, a legislative body or voters tell us that we ‘have to,’ ‘when to,’ and ‘how to’ spend taxpayers’ money on sex change operations, I will not make a decision that has the potential to discriminate against those who desire other currently uncovered elective procedures.”

The state also brought forward several expert witnesses who, rather than voice concerns about spending, expressed beliefs that transgender people should be prevented or discouraged from transitioning.

One of those witnesses, Paul Hruz, a pediatric endocrinologist in St. Louis who acknowledged he had no experience treating transgender patients for gender dysphoria, said in an expert report that in many cases the condition could stem from “social contagion” and that delaying care for children allows time for most of them to “grow out of the problem.” In his career and during the case, Hruz cited controversial theories, including that “cancel culture” and a “Gender Transition Industry” are preventing public debate on the merits of transition care. According to his deposition, Hruz has attended multiple events hosted by the Alliance Defending Freedom, a religious group that has pushed anti-trans legislation across the country.

In a deposition filed by the plaintiffs’ attorneys, a mother of a transgender child recalled a conversation she’d had with Hruz years ago about trans rights and her child’s challenging experience. She said Hruz told her, “Some children are born in this world to suffer and die.”

Hruz denied in his deposition that he made that statement. He declined to provide comment for this story.

Hruz’s views are so extreme that Judge Loretta Biggs limited what topics he was allowed to speak about during the case. “His conspiratorial intimations and outright accusations sound in political hyperbole and pose a clear risk of inflaming the jury and prejudicing Plaintiffs,” she wrote in a ruling last year. “It is the Federal Rules of Evidence, not some ‘Cancel Culture,’ that excludes this portion of Hruz’s testimony.”

She ordered North Carolina to remove its exclusion and allow transgender employees to access gender-affirming care. The state quickly appealed.

In 2020, as Lange anxiously watched her case inch through the courts, her legal chances suddenly seemed better than ever: The U.S. Supreme Court ruled that employment discrimination based on transgender status is illegal. Previously, courts had been divided on the issue.

Lange was driving to collect evidence for a financial fraud case she was investigating when she heard the news. She began to cry. “I had to pull over and just lost it,” she recalled. “I was just so happy.”

Still, Houston County kept fighting.

While the case dragged on, Lange was sometimes asked why she didn’t find another job that would cover her health care, but she felt she couldn’t afford to lose her pension benefits. She also loves her work investigating criminal cases, helping victims of violent attacks and fraud. She wondered if any other law enforcement agency nearby would hire a transgender woman, let alone one who was suing her employer. She was in her late 40s at that point and felt too old for a major career change.

“It’s been a lonely process and it’s just a grind,” Lange said. “It just tears at you each day that you go by. You’re constantly reminded that you’re still not who you’re supposed to be.”

Two more years would pass before Lange won her case in 2022, with the federal judge citing the Supreme Court decision as a major reason for ruling in her favor. “The Exclusion plainly discriminates because of transgender status,” Judge Marc Treadwell wrote in his order. A jury soon after awarded her $60,000 for “emotional pain and mental anguish.” Lange celebrated, immediately calling friends who had been there for her through years of heartache, then posting the news on social media. She scheduled an appointment with a surgeon in New York.

But Lange’s joy was cut short when the county appealed the ruling, a move that would cost it tens of thousands of additional dollars; it also meant that Lange wouldn’t get any of the money she was awarded until the process was complete. The county asked the court to let it keep its exclusion in place as the appeal moved forward, arguing again that the cost of covering Lange’s surgery could be exorbitant. In its argument, it referenced a New York Times article, “How Ben Got His Penis,” about a costly surgery not for a transgender woman but for a transgender man. That surgery is much more complicated than the one Lange sought. While the judge weighed the arguments, Lange had to postpone her surgery yet again.

Lange called her friend Shannon West when she found out the county was appealing. “She was really upset. She was crying,” West recalled. “It’s like climbing a stairwell and you get to the top. You’re about to go through the door and then somebody shuts the door and you get hit back down.”

Houston County paid a private law firm almost $85,000 for the month of September 2022, several months after a federal judge ruled that the county’s health plan was discriminatory. The county is appealing the ruling. (Obtained by ProPublica)

This month, the door reopened: Treadwell ordered Houston County to cover transition care for its employees. He admonished the county for misrepresenting the cost of Lange’s surgery in its most recent legal argument, calling the decision “irresponsible.” He stressed that no connection existed, “anatomically or otherwise,” between the surgery mentioned in the New York Times article and the one Lange sought. The county, he added, had already received a specific, much lower estimate for the cost of Lange’s requested surgery.

Treadwell also said the county was “factually wrong” in suggesting that other transgender people would seek out even more expensive care. “It is undisputed that the Health Plan’s third-party administrator generally ‘concluded that utilization of gender-confirming care was low,’” he wrote. “In the four years this litigation has been pending, no other Health Plan members have sought gender confirmation surgery, or even identified as transgender.”

Lange heard about the ruling from her lawyer and struggled to feel excited. After the roller coaster of the previous several years, she had tamped down her optimism.

In many ways, Lange’s life has been on hold. She feels uncomfortable in her body and self-conscious about participating in activities she used to love: swimming, refereeing soccer, anything that would expose her body to heightened scrutiny. She’s divorced but has been hesitant to date. She goes to work, she comes home, on the weekends she plays tennis. She knows the surgery won’t restore the time she has lost.

Now, for the third time, she is starting the process of scheduling her surgery, hoping that the courts won’t yank the opportunity away again. She’s reluctant to book a hotel stay, already anticipating having to cancel it. “Until the case is done-done and over with, that’s when I can have some relief,” she said.

Have You Faced Barriers to Getting Gender-Affirming Care? Help Us Investigate.

by Aliyya Swaby and Lucas Waldron

Regulatory Failure 101: What the Collapse of Silicon Valley Bank Reveals

2 years 1 month ago

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This story is exempt from our Creative Commons license until July 15, 2023.

The collapses of Silicon Valley Bank and Signature Bank this past weekend were the end point in an all-too-familiar cycle: first the boom, then the breathtakingly speedy bust and then the bailout. We are now at the postmortem moment — when everyone wonders where the regulators were.

Silicon Valley Bank has already become notorious for how obvious its red flags were. Perhaps the most telling was the rapid growth of its borrowing from the Federal Home Loan Banks system. Banking experts know this Depression-era group of government-sponsored lenders as the second-to-last resort for banks. (The Fed is, as always, the lender of last resort.) At the end of last year, Silicon Valley Bank had $15 billion of FHLB loans, up from zero a year earlier.

“That’s the type of flag that says you need to look closely,” Kathryn Judge, a Columbia law professor who specializes in financial regulation, told me. But there’s no sign the loans triggered any regulatory attention.

Primary responsibility for the debacle lies, of course, with SVB’s management. But regulators are supposed to grasp that they exist because bankers are always tempted to take risks. Bankers want to grow too fast, borrow cheaply, lend freely and lock their investments up unwisely for long periods in hope of gaining higher returns.

Some commentators are now reiterating calls for banking rules to be tightened, which is probably a wise move. But the collapse of the two banks proves once more that the culture of the regulators is as important as any rules, laws or tools at their disposal.

At least one journalist detected banks’ rising vulnerabilities, including those of Silicon Valley Bank, as early as last November; the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp.’s own chair had also warned about the problem. A few short sellers even started betting against the bank’s stock. Now, however, the combination of reckless bankers and lax regulators has left us with a financial crisis and a federal-government bailout — and the well-rehearsed spectacle of regulators promising to do better next time. (And yes, this was a bailout. Some depositors were facing losses and the federal government, backed by the public, prevented that — at as-yet-unknown scale and cost.)

One troubling aspect of this particular collapse is just how unremarkable a bank run it was, how basic its causes were. Regulators didn’t need any fancy analysis to detect the danger at Silicon Valley Bank. They just needed to notice its financial results. Granted, in 2018 Congress had loosened the post-global-financial-crisis Dodd-Frank regulations that would have required a bank like SVB to undergo more frequent stress tests, but those tests measure exotic or extreme risks. All that was required in this case was regular supervision. The bank had clear risk-control flaws and disclosed losses on its books, right there in its Securities and Exchange Commission filings.

Silicon Valley Bank’s assets had grown dramatically, quadrupling in five years, as had its deposits. Both phenomena are almost always worrying signs. The bank was also overly concentrated in one sector of the economy, and an unusually large proportion of its deposits — about 94% — was uninsured, above the $250,000 limit that the FDIC will guarantee per deposit.

No bank can survive if every creditor asks for their money back at once. The larger the portion of a bank’s clients that could wake up one day to realize that their deposits are not protected, the greater the risk of a run.

What Silicon Valley Bank did with those deposits should have been another warning signal. It used them to buy too many long-term bonds. As interest rates go up, bonds lose value. Nobody should have needed the warning, but the bank itself said that interest-rate risk was the biggest hazard it faced. And regulators should have noticed before the bank began borrowing heavily from the FHLB system.

In its SEC filings in the third quarter of last year, the bank’s parent company disclosed that it was sitting on losses from its bond purchases big enough to swamp its total equity. That would have been a good time for supervisors to tell the bank to get its act together.

Silicon Valley Bank was far from doing so: It hadn’t had a chief risk officer for most of that year. “Regulators had to know that, and it has to matter,” Jeff Hauser, the founder and director of the Revolving Door Project, a Washington nonprofit that tracks the regulatory state, told me. “Once we valorize success as proof of wisdom, it’s hard for a lowly bank examiner to say, ‘This place doesn’t have a risk officer and doesn’t have a plan to address the risk on its books.’”

Bank regulators have awesome powers. They can go into a bank, examine its operations and demand changes. The problem is that they rarely do. “The regulators are like all the conflicted agents in ratings [agencies] and other areas,” Chris Whalen, a longtime financial analyst, told me. “They go with the flow in good times and drop the ball in bad times.”

The San Francisco Fed, which regulated the parent company, and the California regulators, which oversaw the bank itself, could have required SVB to raise capital last year, when it was less vulnerable. They could also have required the bank to increase rates on its savings accounts — in other words, to pay people more to lend it money. That would have eroded earnings but it would’ve kept customers from fleeing. Ask Greg Becker, the bank’s chief executive, today if he would rather have reduced per-share earnings or avoided having superintended the second-largest banking collapse in U.S. history.

So why don’t we have regulators who can be relied on to do their jobs?

Part of the answer is a legacy of the Trump administration’s penchant for installing regulators who are opposed to regulation. Donald Trump appointed Randal Quarles as the first-ever vice chair of banking supervision at the Federal Reserve. (The Fed did not respond to questions for this story.) Quarles saw it as his mission to relax the post-financial-crisis regime. He sent unambiguous signals about how he felt about aggressive regulators — “Changing the tenor of supervision will probably actually be the biggest part of what it is that I do,” he declared in 2017. Translation: Any sign of showing teeth and he’ll get out the pliers. And when Jerome Powell was nominated to be the chair of the Fed, in 2017, he told Congress that Quarles was a “close friend,” adding, “I think we are very well aligned on our approach to the issues that he will face as vice chair for supervision.” Naturally, Quarles supported the 2018 law to roll back stress tests — something that Becker himself had called for. Quarles also did not respond to my request for comment.

This crisis raises the old issue of how strange it is that the Federal Reserve regulates banks at all. In the years leading up to the 2008-09 financial crisis, an alphabet soup of regulators ostensibly shared responsibility for banking oversight along with the Fed: The OTS (Office of Thrift Supervision), the OCC (Office of the Comptroller of the Currency), the SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission), and the CFTC (Commodity Futures Trading Commission). Banks and financial entities played these agencies off against one another to shop for the least restrictive. Policy makers and legislators knew this and toyed with changing the architecture of banking-and-securities regulation. Ultimately, their only action was to close down the least of them, the OTS, and keep the rest, each of which had its own constituency of supporters.

So the Federal Reserve kept its responsibilities. But critics argue that the Fed can never become an effective bank regulator because its chief concern is with the more glamorous business of managing the economy.

The roots of regulatory failure run deeper, however, than the Trump administration’s actions. President Joe Biden’s appointees at the Federal Trade Commission, the Department of Justice, and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau appear to be trying to wield their powers to make the economy more efficient, safer and more equitable. But pockets of learned governmental helplessness remain. Regulators have an ingrained fear of stepping in, making people uncomfortable, making demands and using their clout.

The Fed’s banking supervisors should have been on heightened alert as its governors started boosting interest rates. Silicon Valley Bank faced not only the interest-rate risk to its treasury-bond holdings but also the likelihood of credit losses accumulating on its books from distressed venture-capital firms and declines in commercial real-estate values last year.

The fact that the Fed supervisors weren’t agile with Silicon Valley Bank indicates that they have failed to internalize how woefully fragile our financial system is. The U.S. has suffered repeated bubbles, manias and crashes since the deregulatory era began under Ronald Reagan: the savings-and-loan crisis, Long-Term Capital Management, the Nasdaq crash, the global financial crisis, the financial convulsions of the early pandemic. Congress and regulators sometimes shore up aspects of the system after the event, but they have failed to foster a resilient financial system that doesn’t inflate serial bubbles. Each time, instead, the regulators reinforce a lesson that if bubble participants huddle as closely together as possible, and fail conventionally, the government will be there to save them.

“One of the most disturbing dynamics here,” Judge, the Columbia Law professor, told me, “is a loss of respect for the Fed as a supervisor, as a regulator.” That is not a good place for the industry’s chief overseer to start rebuilding confidence in the integrity of the American banking system.

by Jesse Eisinger

Judge Pauses Order to Return Siblings to Father They Say Abused Them

2 years 1 month ago

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After two months barricaded in a bedroom to defy a court order directing them to be returned to the custody of their father, who they say abused them, Utah siblings Ty and Brynlee Larson emerged after a judge delayed enforcing the custody change while a new criminal probe into the father is resolved.

“New information has come forward today regarding serious allegations of abuse,” Judge Derek Pullan said in a Monday hearing, citing the criminal probe first reported by ProPublica.

The Salt Lake County District Attorney’s office told the news organization last month that it is investigating Brent Larson, the children’s father. The probe is looking into allegations of felony child abuse, according to a spokesperson for the Herriman Police Department.

The Utah County Attorney’s office is also investigating Larson, for allegations of misdemeanor child abuse, officials said in court Monday.

“It appears that these allegations of sexual abuse and other kinds of abuse against the children at the hands of Brent have been put forward after this court’s ruling regarding temporary custody being awarded to Brent,” Pullan said.

Larson, via his attorney Ron Wilkinson, has denied the new allegations. “There have been similar false claims — repeatedly, for years,” Wilkinson wrote to ProPublica.

The judge had sided with Larson and a court-appointed therapist that the children’s mother, Jessica Zahrt, had manipulated the children to falsely believe he had abused them. The argument is based on the disputed psychological theory called “parental alienation,” in which one parent is accused of manipulating a child to turn against the other parent. It has been rejected by mainstream scientific bodies as not a legitimate mental health disorder.

If the DA’s office decides not to charge Larson, the court will consider reinstating its order to force the children into their father’s custody, the judge said.

A previous investigation into Larson stalled in February 2021, when prosecutors determined they did not have enough evidence to lead to a probable conviction.

Hours after the judge temporarily vacated his order on Monday, Ty, 15, and Brynlee, 12, told ProPublica that they had extricated themselves from the boarded-up bedroom where they had lived and Ty had livestreamed, bringing the family court case to the attention of hundreds of thousands of viewers.

“I’m still in fight or flight,” Ty said from the kitchen of his mother’s Salem home. He said he is certain his social media advocacy altered the trajectory of his case. “I need to keep growing this. It’s like, this is the thing that saved me.”

“I know this is temporary,” he said of the judge’s decision. “Like, you found a little field, but you’re not out of the woods. There’s still a fight up ahead.”

Brynlee said she planned to spend her first day of freedom with friends. She said she was heading out the door for the first time in two months, with plans to surprise her friends as they got off the school bus.

“No one knows we’re out yet!” she said, working to unknot the sleeves of her coat.

Monday’s hearing was the result of a request by the Utah County Sheriff’s Office for the judge to clarify his order authorizing police to forcibly remove the children from their mother’s home and place them in their father’s legal custody. Despite the custody change, Pullan had prohibited Larson from having unsupervised parenting time with the children or spending overnights with them, instead ordering Ty and Brynlee to be separately housed at their paternal relatives’ homes pending further court orders.

After an unsuccessful attempt to carry out the order in December — during which officers decided not to break down the bedroom door despite Larson’s request that they do so, according to police reports — the sheriff’s office said the Salem Police department was refusing further attempts to carry out the court’s orders and asked the judge for further clarification given “the delicate and potential combustible situation.”

In the Monday hearing, Pullan also reiterated that he would hold off enforcing his order to send Ty and Brylee to a so-called reunification camp. Turning Points for Families says it treats children who are victims of “parental alienation.”

“There’s also a dispute in this case about the merits of a reunification camp called Turning Points,” said Pullan, who said the children’s parents can hire experts to weigh in on the efficacy of such programs.

Following ProPublica’s coverage of the Larson siblings’ case, Utah lawmakers called for a reexamination of court-sanctioned reunification therapies for “alienated” minors.

“I find this whole thing of taking kids away from a parent to force them into reunification with an estranged parent to be very alarming,” state Sen. Todd Weiler said in an interview with ProPublica.

Weiler said he is learning more about the issue with hopes of introducing legislation to bring Utah into compliance with Kayden’s Law, which offers additional federal funds to states that require family courts to consider past evidence of abuse when making custody decisions. It was incorporated last year into the federal Violence Against Women Act, which provides federal funding to states that improve their child custody laws to better protect children. States that opt in to comply with the federal act limit the use of reunification programs and other court ordered treatments that lack sufficient scientific backing.

“We need to be more cautious throwing around terms like ‘parental alienation,’” said Weiler. “There are a host of legitimate reasons a teen might not want to visit a parent — to jump to blame the custodial parent would be a mistake.”

In an interview with ProPublica, state Sen. Mike McKell said Utah courts and lawmakers should also “take a hard look at reunification therapy.”

“Reunification camps concern me,” said McKell, who also said he plans to look at potential legislation to curtail court-ordered therapeutic practices with “no good science to justify it.”

“The coverage of this case has been very helpful,” he said of ProPublica’s reporting. “You might assume that what’s happening in these family courts is appropriate, until you dig down deep and take a careful look at what’s actually going on.”

Mariam Elba and Mollie Simon contributed research.

Correction

March 16, 2023: This story originally reported incorrectly the level of crime the Salt Lake County District Attorney’s office is investigating. The office is investigating Brent Larson for felony child abuse, not misdemeanor child abuse. The Utah County Attorney’s office is investigating Larson for allegations of misdemeanor child abuse.

by Hannah Dreyfus

How Forest Loss Can Unleash the Next Pandemic

2 years 1 month ago

In 2013, the worst Ebola outbreak in history started in a small village in southern Guinea, eventually tearing through West Africa. By the time it ended in 2016, more than 11,300 people were dead. Scientists have linked this and other Ebola outbreaks to specific patterns of deforestation.

To understand why, ProPublica adapted an academic model to show how the way forests are being cut down around the locations of multiple previous outbreaks could increase the risk of another outbreak today.

See more in our interactive story.

Wealthy Executives Make Millions Trading Competitors’ Stock With Remarkable Timing

2 years 1 month ago

On Feb. 21, 2018, August Troendle, an Ohio billionaire, made a remarkably well-timed stock trade. He sold $1.1 million worth of shares of Syneos Health the day before a management shake-up caused the company’s stock to plunge 16%. It was the largest one-day drop that year for Syneos’ share price.

The company was one Troendle knew well. He is the CEO of Medpace, one of Syneos’ chief competitors in a niche industry. Both Syneos and Medpace handle clinical trials for biopharma companies, and that year they had jointly launched a trade association for companies in the field.

The day after selling the Syneos shares in February 2018, Troendle bought again — at least $3.9 million worth. The value of his Syneos stake then rose 75% in the year that followed.

In February 2019, Troendle sold much of that position, netting $2.3 million in profit. Two days later, Syneos disclosed that the Securities and Exchange Commission was investigating its accounting practices. The news sent the company’s shares tumbling. Troendle’s sale avoided a 25% loss, the stock’s largest decline in such a short period during either that or the previous year. (Troendle declined to comment.)

The Medpace executive is among dozens of top executives who have traded shares of either competitors or other companies with close connections to their own. A Gulf of Mexico oil executive invested in one partner company the day before it announced good news about some of its wells. A paper-industry executive made a 37% return in less than a week by buying shares of a competitor just before it was acquired by another company. And a toy magnate traded hundreds of millions of dollars in stock and options of his main rival, conducting transactions on at least 295 days. He made an 11% return over a recent five-year period, even as the rival’s shares fell by 57%.

August Troendle (via the Medpace website)

These transactions are captured in a vast IRS dataset of stock trades made by the country’s wealthiest people, part of a trove of tax data leaked to ProPublica. ProPublica analyzed millions of those trades, isolated those by corporate executives trading in companies related to their own, then identified transactions that were anomalous — either because of the size of the bets or because individuals were trading a particular stock for the first time or using high-risk, high-return options for the first time.

The records give no indication as to why executives made particular trades or what information they possessed; they may have simply been relying on years of broad industry knowledge to make astute bets at fortuitous moments. Still, the records show many instances where the executives bought and sold with exquisite timing.

Such trading records have never been publicly available. Even the SEC itself doesn’t have such a comprehensive database. The records provide an unprecedented glimpse into how the titans of American industry make themselves even wealthier in the stock market.

U.S. securities law bars “insider trading” — buying or selling stocks based on access to nonpublic information not available to other investors — under certain circumstances. Historically, insider trading prosecutions and SEC enforcement have both focused on corporate employees, and those close to them, trading in the stock of their own companies.

But executives at companies can also have extensive access to nonpublic information about rivals, partners or vendors through their business. Buying or selling stock based on that knowledge can run afoul of insider-trading law, according to experts. ProPublica described multiple trades, without mentioning names, to Robert Zink, a former chief of the Justice Department’s criminal fraud section, who responded that if he were still at the Justice Department, “of course we would look at it.” He added that the key to ProPublica’s findings is “the trading doesn’t appear to be a one- or two-time thing. It’s happening a lot.”

Harvey Pitt, former chair of the SEC, said it was unwise for corporate officials to bet on the fortunes of competing companies.

“Executives should not be trading in the stocks of their competitors,” Pitt said. “Why go looking for trouble? It’s perfectly possible to invest in the stock market without investing in companies you have actual nonpublic information about or that you might be argued to have nonpublic information about.”

There’s at least one sign that the SEC has gotten interested in this sort of trading. In 2021, the agency brought an insider-trading case against an executive at a biopharmaceutical company who learned his own company was about to get acquired, then bought options in a competitor, whose share price also rose on the news. (The case is still pending; the defendant has denied improper conduct.) It’s not clear if that action is a harbinger of increased enforcement by the SEC, which declined to comment about its enforcement priorities.

Insider trading is a simple concept and simultaneously difficult to prove, because it hinges on blurry definitions and court rulings that have favored defendants and weakened enforcement. Matters are even murkier when it comes to executives buying and selling shares of rivals and partners. This can be perfectly legal.

But even when legal, such trades can allow executives to win when their companies lose, according to securities experts. Executives are often handsomely compensated with their own company’s stock, which gives them a direct reward for maximizing profits and raising their company’s stock price. Owning shares of competitors' stock potentially gives them a reason to root for their rivals to succeed, said Alan Jagolinzer, a professor of financial accounting at the University of Cambridge’s business school.

And by making millions through trading on nonpublic information, executives could contribute to the perception that the stock market is rigged to benefit the privileged. Well-placed executives enjoy access to information within their industry that isn’t available to ordinary investors. The perception that industry insiders use that knowledge for personal gain could undermine the public’s confidence that the markets are fair.

In the wake of the stock market crash of 1929, Americans learned that wealthy corporate executives had taken advantage of their positions to reap profits on their personal investments. In response, Congress created the SEC and passed reforms aimed at leveling the playing field for investors. Those reforms required top executives of public companies, who swim in an ocean of nonpublic information, to disclose any trades they make in their own company’s stock.

This disclosure requirement, however, has never applied to trades that executives make in shares of partner companies and competitors. Congress also didn’t explicitly ban, or even define, insider trading. Instead, it generally outlawed securities fraud, and left it to regulators and judges to hash out the specifics.

Still, the basic concept of insider trading is well-established. Any employee (or contractor who works for them, such as lawyers or investment bankers) who knows about, say, a coming announcement of a bad quarter, a new blockbuster product or an upcoming takeover is generally prohibited from buying or selling shares in that company.

To bring a case, federal authorities have to prove two main elements. First, they must show that the trader had what’s known as “material nonpublic information”: a significant fact, not yet publicly known, that would affect the company’s share price. And second, that the employee who traded on that information, or provided the tip to the person who did, had a duty not to disclose it or use it for personal benefit.

These elements can be hard to pin down. The CEO of a public company can argue their well-timed trade of a competitor’s shares was informed by a deep knowledge of the industry, not a nonpublic tip. The owner of a private firm may argue that they can use nonpublic information from their own company to trade the stock of competitors because they have no duty not to use the information for personal benefit.

Many employers add their own restrictions. Law firms and investment managers often require employees to clear any securities trades ahead of time. Some companies have policies that forbid trading while in possession of nonpublic information about competitors, clients or partners. Medpace, the publicly traded company that Troendle has led while profiting from trades in several competitors, acknowledges the likelihood that employees will learn nonpublic information about firms other than their own and warns that employees “who obtain material non-public information about another company in the course of their duties are prohibited from trading in the stock or securities of the other company.”

No other executives in ProPublica’s database appear to have traded in shares of rival companies on the scale that Isaac Larian did. The CEO of MGA Entertainment, whose Bratz fashion dolls competed with Mattel’s Barbie dolls, Larian traded hundreds of millions of dollars worth of his rival’s securities between 2005 and 2019. (Records show Larian also traded, often profitably, in shares of Hasbro, another close competitor.)

Over a recent five-year span, Larian earned about $28 million in profit on Mattel trades. That equates to an 11% return on his investment, which sounds like a modest outcome until you consider that Mattel’s stock crashed by 57% during the same period.

Isaac Larian (Unique Nicole/Getty Images)

MGA and Mattel are fierce competitors. Larian has poached Mattel employees, and he frequently lashes out at the company on social media and cable news. He uses mocking nicknames to describe Mattel executives in public, referring to former general counsel Bob Normile as Bob “Abnormal,” and refers to the company as the “evil empire.”

Mattel and MGA have sued and countersued each other. Larian’s rival filed suit in 2004, claiming MGA had stolen the idea for Bratz, its first giant success. The litigation dragged on for years, with MGA ultimately claiming victory after an appeal.

And through it all, Larian was buying and selling shares of Mattel. For example, on June 5, 2008, he sold $3 million of Mattel stock. That same day, he was in court fighting the company in the Bratz lawsuit — and he had just obtained evidence that could hurt Mattel. He had received an anonymous letter alleging Mattel was spying on Larian and his family. It was a potentially game-changing piece of evidence in a lawsuit in which Larian’s MGA was being accused of unsavory business practices.

The judge ordered the letter sealed, but its existence became public later that day, when it was revealed in the press. The next day, Mattel stock fell 2.6%. Having sold the day before, Larian avoided the loss on those shares.

By 2015, the two companies were in litigation once again. At that point, MGA was alleging that Mattel was stealing its ideas for new toys. In April, Larian emailed Mattel’s CEO after the two met, suggesting that Mattel’s share price would rise if the two companies came to an out-of-court agreement. “I believe the street will reward the Mattel stock positively once this is settled and the legal fees go away,” Larian wrote in the email.

But Larian never settled. And he appears to have invested millions in bets against Mattel during the month the companies were discussing a settlement. The trades are not described as short sales in the IRS data. But when Mattel’s share price fell, Larian’s broker reported profits, a scenario two securities experts said suggested the trades were either short trades or stock options that Larian took out in anticipation the stock would tumble.

Larian has publicly acknowledged shorting Mattel stock. “I made a LOT more money shorting Mattel stock than they did running a $4.5 billion toy company,” Larian boasted in one LinkedIn post in 2020. (In other instances, he has also posted about holding a long position in Mattel. “I’m a major shareholder,” Larian said on LinkedIn in 2017.)

Larian’s trades sometimes corresponded with the rollout of new MGA products that could cut into Mattel’s market share and thus might lower Mattel’s stock price. In the month before MGA unveiled a new line of Bratz dolls in July 2015, Larian appears to have invested (here, too, the evidence is not conclusive) about $3 million betting against Mattel.

At other times, Larian traded Mattel stock before the company announced news, which industry experts said he may have been in a position to learn about as CEO of a rival. Toy companies all deal with the same vendors and retail stores and compete with each other for prime shelf space. It’s not uncommon to gain intelligence on how well a competitor is doing. And according to interviews with eight people who have worked for him, Larian is a boss with an endless appetite for information about his company and its competitors, constantly grilling subordinates on minutiae about the industry.

On July 26, 2017, Larian sold $1.4 million worth of Mattel shares. The next day, Mattel announced its earnings for the previous quarter, with declining sales for Barbie and some of the toymaker’s other doll lines, including Monster High and American Girl, all of which MGA had competed with. Mattel’s stock fell nearly 8% by the end of the next day, the beginning of a 23% slide over the next month. Larian avoided those losses.

ProPublica described Larian’s trading history — without identifying him or the companies involved — to multiple securities experts. They said the pattern was potentially troubling and deserved regulatory and legal scrutiny. But they also noted numerous caveats and ways in which the law offers latitude for this sort of trading.

Generally, the experts said, these types of trades are more perilous for executives at either public companies or private firms with investors. Executives at such companies typically have a clear duty to refrain from using company information for their own personal benefit, according to experts.

But if an executive owns all of his company, trading ahead of his own actions, such as the announcement of a new product line, or based on his own sales data, would likely not be legally problematic. (Larian’s tax data suggests he owns about 80% of the company, but it’s not clear whether another person or a different Larian entity owns the rest.) “U.S. law does not generally prohibit trading on information that you own,” said Joshua Mitts, a Columbia University law professor who has studied insider trading laws.

However, using confidential information from outside one’s own company, such as if an executive traded after learning something about a competitor from a retailer, experts say, could raise legal questions, as could trading after learning a nonpublic fact that was expected to remain confidential during litigation or settlement talks. “The SEC would certainly look at this,” Mitts said.

Pitt, the former SEC chair, echoed those concerns. “This conduct contains the seeds of some very potentially pernicious activity,” he said. “This is very risky.”

Larian declined requests for an interview and also declined multiple requests to answer a list of detailed questions for this article. His lawyer, Sanford Michelman, told ProPublica that any suggestion that Larian violated the law is “false and defamatory.” He asserted that they were not aware of any evidence suggesting that Larian possessed material, nonpublic information that Larian knew was obtained in breach of a duty. Michelman also accused ProPublica of making “false assumptions and allegations” but did not identify any specific errors in ProPublica’s reporting.

Often executives can know even more about their business partners than they do about their competitors. ProPublica’s data shows that some executives have bought stock in their partners with superb timing.

Gerald Boelte is the chairman and founder of LLOG Exploration, one of the largest privately owned oil production companies in the U.S. After the Deepwater Horizon spill spewed millions of gallons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico in 2010, some companies gave up on drilling there. But Boelte stayed, buying up new leases.

One of Boelte’s oil production partners was Stone Energy, at the time a publicly traded company; both LLOG and Stone were based in Louisiana. In 2013, the two companies drilled a deepwater well together in the gulf. And in June 2015, they struck oil together on a well in another part of the gulf known as Viosca Knoll.

That same summer, a separate project Stone was working on in another part of the gulf south of Louisiana, the Cardona wells, looked to be turning into a success. In an earnings report on Aug. 5, 2015, Stone announced that the value of its reserves had increased, along with revealing promising new details of the Cardona field. In the days that followed, Stone’s stock surged.

That was good news for Boelte. The day before Stone’s earnings were announced, he began purchasing $527,000 in the company’s stock. His tax data suggests it was the first and only time he bought the company’s stock during the years for which ProPublica has data. By the time he sold the shares two months later, Boelte claimed $343,000 in profit, a 65% return.

Aside from being Stone’s partner, there’s another reason Boelte could have received insights about how the company was doing before the public did. After seeing positive signs in its Cardona project, Stone sold LLOG its stake in the Viosca Knoll well the two companies had been working on together. Stone planned to use the sale proceeds to continue developing its own projects, such as the Cardona wells. The two sides concluded the sale in October, according to company filings, but typically such negotiations take months, an expert said. That suggests Boelte might have known about Stone shifting resources before he bought shares.

In a detailed statement, Boelte said, “I do not and have never traded on any material, non-public information of competitors, business partners or others.” He went on: “I did not draw any conclusion about Stone Energy’s intentions for other specific investments one way or another, and I had no discussions with Stone Energy regarding their intentions with respect to other investments by Stone Energy.” His purchase of the shares, he said, was motivated by his expectation that crude prices were about to rise; based on that, he invested in “several energy securities, including Stone Energy.”

Boelte said he quickly sold half of the Stone shares, and held on to the remainder until 2021 (which is beyond the period covered by ProPublica’s data), and that overall he lost money on the trades. “Any implication that I was investing based upon advance knowledge,” Boelte said, “is therefore clearly false.”

The board of Checkpoint Systems had been quietly considering its “strategic” options for more than a year. The New Jersey-based company, which makes anti-theft tags and other inventory tracking devices for stores, was suffering as its clients closed brick-and-mortar locations. By late 2015 and early 2016, Checkpoint’s board had made a list of potential acquirers, and the company’s bankers began contacting them.

Talks heated up with one potential buyer, CCL Industries, and Checkpoint gave the company access to its confidential business and financial documents. In January 2016, CCL told Checkpoint that it was going to ask its board for approval to make the acquisition. CCL would offer $10.15 per share, a significant premium.

As this was happening, on Jan. 14, Jim Sankey, the CEO of InVue, one of Checkpoint’s competitors, bought $285,000 in shares of the company. He was just getting started. Over the course of the next month, Sankey bought more shares, $3.2 million in all. (ProPublica’s tax records show no indication that he had traded shares of Checkpoint before.)

A month later, news broke that Checkpoint was getting acquired. Sankey made $2.3 million in profit from his investment, a cherry on top of the $25 million he made from his own company that year.

In an interview, Sankey said that he did not know Checkpoint was going to be acquired, and that his company was not among those approached by Checkpoint about a possible sale or partnership. Sankey said he bought shares because the price had been falling. Years earlier, in 2007, he had overseen a roughly $150 million sale of one of his anti-theft product lines to Checkpoint. He knew that division’s operating income at the time of the sale, and that it hadn’t lost clients since. Based on that calculation, he believed the stock was undervalued. “I built the business,” said Sankey, who remains CEO of privately held InVue. “And I knew they couldn't screw it up.”

Sankey said that investigators, he believes from the SEC, interviewed the two brokers he had instructed to buy Checkpoint shares. The investigators, he said, dropped the matter after his brokers relayed his explanation for why he bought shares. He had no proof, Sankey said, but “they took my word.”

For Barry Wish, on one occasion, losing a contract to a competitor came with a significant benefit. In the 1980s, Wish co-founded Ocwen, a mortgage-servicing company, then helped steer the West Palm Beach, Florida-based firm for decades on its board. Mortgage servicers essentially act as brokers between lenders and homeowners, handling billing, modifying loans for borrowers and carrying out foreclosures.

In the years after the housing crash, Ocwen and its competitors grew rapidly, as big banks auctioned off the loans they were administering amid costly new regulations.

One of the prize tranches — $215 billion in home mortgages from Bank of America — was won by Wish’s rival, Nationstar, in January 2013. The day the company’s deal with Bank of America was announced, its stock shot up almost 17%, its biggest one-day gain since the company had gone public almost a year earlier. According to reporting at the time, Wish’s firm had been jockeying with Nationstar for the deal.

But losing wasn’t a total loss for Wish.

Less than three weeks earlier, he had bought $600,000 of Nationstar shares. The day the deal became public, Wish sold his shares, earning himself a $157,000 profit.

In a phone call with ProPublica, Wish said he didn’t recall buying Nationstar shares. Asked if he ever traded competitors’ stock, he said, “No, not at all.” When told his tax data showed he had, Wish said, “You might see it, but I don’t have any recollection,” before hanging up.

Steven Grossman is another executive who was fortunate enough to buy stock in a company just before it was acquired. Grossman’s grandfather founded Southern Container Corp., a corrugated packaging and containerboard manufacturer based on Long Island. It was one of the largest private companies of its kind, with more than half a billion dollars in annual sales until Grossman sold it in 2008 for about $1 billion. He stayed on after the sale, remaining on the payroll of the new owner, Rock-Tenn, until 2013.

ProPublica’s data shows that during his years in the industry, Grossman was also frequently trading the stock of companies he competed with. He sold no company’s stock in higher volumes than that of Temple-Inland, a Texas-based corrugated packaging firm.

Many of Grossman’s trades were well-timed, but few were as timely as his June 2011 purchases. On June 2, he bought $223,000 of Temple-Inland shares. Then, on June 6, he bought an additional $428,000.

On the very day of Grossman’s second and larger purchase, after trading closed, another paper company announced it was trying to acquire Temple-Inland. Executives had secretly been negotiating the takeover for weeks.

When the market opened the next day, Temple-Inland’s stock skyrocketed in what was its biggest one-day increase in more than a decade. Grossman quickly cashed out, making a 37% return in less than a week.

In an interview, Grossman denied trading stock altogether. When told that IRS data documented his trading activity, and asked about Temple-Inland in particular, Grossman said, “I haven’t traded stock since then.” The IRS data shows he continued to trade. Grossman said that after he sold his company in 2008, he never worked for the buyer, Rock-Tenn. But his tax data shows he was on Rock-Tenn’s payroll through 2013. “They paid me but never used my services,” Grossman said. He asserted that he did not know about the acquisition talks involving Temple-Inland when he bought shares. Asked what prompted him to buy that day, Grossman replied, “That was 10 years ago.” With that, he hung up.

Methodology Data background and limitations

When an investor sells stocks, bonds or other securities through a broker, the firm is generally required to issue a tax form called a 1099-B, which details several pieces of information about the transaction, including a description of the asset sold, the proceeds from the sale and the date the sale occurred. The brokerage provides a copy of the 1099-B both to the investor and to the IRS. ProPublica’s universe of trades was drawn from tens of millions of these records, part of a larger set of records that formed the basis of ProPublica’s series “The Secret IRS Files.”

ProPublica’s database does not include a complete picture of all trades made by or for investors. Investments made through a separate legal entity like a partnership, for example, are not included. Additionally, 1099-B forms are produced when an asset is sold, not when it is purchased. Many records, however, did list the date the securities were acquired, so ProPublica’s reporters were often able to see a portion of an investor's purchasing activity. Securities that were purchased but not sold until recently are not included in the data.

The dataset spans roughly two decades. Trades from more recent years generally include more information because disclosure requirements have increased over the years. That additional detail allowed ProPublica to better determine how successful the individuals in our data were in the stock market. For stock bought before 2011, brokers were required to report the date it was sold and the total proceeds it generated but not the price paid.

These disclosure changes also affected how certain types of trades appear in the data. That includes short sales, in which an investor borrows shares of a stock, sells the borrowed shares, then “closes” the transaction by buying an equal number of shares to replace the borrowed stock at what they hope is a lower price. The IRS previously required that brokers issue a 1099-B disclosing only when someone entered into a short sale and how big the position was, but not when they closed the short. For shorts initiated after the disclosure changes in 2011, the agency required brokers to submit information about the short being closed, listing both the date it was closed and the overall profit, but no longer required the date the short was entered into. By 2014, options trades were also required to be reported in more detail.

Sometimes it was straightforward to identify short sales and options — for example, a field on the 1099-B form described them as such. However, according to experts, the forms are nonintuitive and brokers frequently fill them out incorrectly. To determine whether the anomalous cases were indeed short sales, ProPublica presented them to experts and the subjects themselves to ascertain the nature of those trades.

How we analyzed the records

To gauge how a stock’s price changed after an investor purchased or sold shares on a given date, ProPublica obtained a dataset outlining the price history for stocks traded on the New York Stock Exchange, the Nasdaq or the American Stock Exchange. We combined that data with the records of the trades documented in our IRS records. Reporters then compared the closing price of a stock on the day a trade occurred to the closing price after a number of different intervals of trading days (5, 10, 20, 60 or 120 days). Closing prices were used because brokers aren’t required to report the share price at the moment the trade was made. This approach mirrors a common method used by academic researchers who study insider trading.

By calculating a stock’s change in price after various time intervals, we could identify trades made close to significant movements in a company’s share price. But because the prices of some securities are much more volatile than others, it was important to determine how anomalous those swings were.

We compared the return from each individual trade to the full distribution of returns for that stock: For example, a one-day return of 20% was compared to all other one-day returns for that stock over a certain period of time. We found several instances in which the days executives traded in their competitors’ stock were more opportune — if not the most opportune — over certain windows of time. One executive, for example, sold more than $1 million worth of shares in a competitor’s stock the day before the company had its largest one-day price drop that year.

ProPublica also examined what ties, if any, individuals had to the companies they were trading, using interviews, news reports, SEC filings, tax records, court records, social media and other avenues.

Help Us Report on Taxes and the Ultrawealthy

Do you have expertise in tax law, accounting or wealth management? Do you have tips to share? Here’s how to get in touch. We are looking for both specific tips and broader expertise.

Paul Kiel and Jeff Ernsthausen contributed reporting, and Doris Burke contributed research.

by Robert Faturechi and Ellis Simani

Dozens of Museums and Universities Pledge to Return Native American Remains. Few Have Funded the Effort.

2 years 1 month ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. This story is part of an ongoing series investigating the return of Native American ancestral remains. Sign up for ProPublica’s “Repatriation Project” newsletter to get updates as they publish and learn more about our reporting.

Until this year, the University of Kentucky’s William S. Webb Museum of Anthropology had never returned any of the more than 4,500 Native American human remains in its collections.

That is about to change.

Weeks after ProPublica published the “Repatriation Project,” the university told federal officials that 138 ancestral remains in its collection could be repatriated to three Shawnee tribes in Oklahoma and Missouri. The university also announced it will commit nearly $900,000 over the next three years and hire three more staff members to work on repatriations.

“This significant investment in staff and resources is a testament to the university’s steadfast commitment to Native nations and completing the sensitive process of repatriation with transparency, dignity and respect,” Kristi Willet, a university spokesperson, said in an email to ProPublica.

The University of Kentucky is among more than a dozen U.S. schools and museums that have pledged to redouble their efforts to return the human remains and belongings — in some cases numbering in the thousands — that were taken from Native American gravesites. Institutions have also publicly acknowledged the harm inflicted on tribal communities by continuing to keep ancestral remains and cultural items, including after the 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act called for them to be returned to tribes.

The wave of responses follow the launch of ProPublica’s series investigating the failures of the federal law.

In the three decades since the law’s passage, museums and universities repatriated fewer than half of the 210,000 human remains they initially reported holding, according to a ProPublica analysis of federal data from December. Ten institutions and federal agencies — including old and prestigious museums, state-funded universities and the U.S. Interior Department — hold about half of those remains, the analysis found.

Nearly 50 local and regional newsrooms have used the data analyzed by ProPublica to report on the progress of repatriation by institutions in their area.

“We want to get this done quickly. We recognize that tribal nations actually feel harm the entire time we’re holding their ancestors,” Catherine Smith, who was recently hired to coordinate University of Florida’s repatriation efforts, told WUFT, a public radio station in Gainesville.

Many institutions have for years told tribes that they will improve their work under NAGPRA and apologized for holding onto remains, said Shannon O’Loughlin, chief executive of the Association on American Indian Affairs, a nonprofit that has long advocated for tribes on repatriation. Meanwhile, museums and universities often continued to interpret the law in ways that allowed for them to resist repatriation and escape scrutiny, she said.

Now, with increased attention from the news media, institutions are facing more pressure to answer for vast collections of Native American remains. The public apologies and commitments to allocate more resources, including hiring staff, mark a shift for many institutions, she said.

“We’ve been told the same stuff, so I’m not sure that we should believe them now,” said O’Loughlin, a citizen of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma. “But, hey, they’re saying it in the public, so we’re gonna hold them to it.”

“More Work to Do”

Tribes could be left with empty promises again, as only a fraction of those institutions stated they will devote more money and other resources to repatriation.

Among those promising to put resources behind their commitment to repatriate is the Tennessee Valley Authority, which told ProPublica that it also has drafted a federal notice that will enable tribal nations to repatriate the remains of nearly 5,000 Native Americans. Federal records show that the utility has at least 3,500 remains in its collections; ProPublica learned that the TVA recently found roughly an additional 1,500 ancestors in its repositories at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville, the University of Kentucky and the University of Alabama. Those ancestors hadn’t previously been reported under NAGPRA, as required by the law.

Most of the ancestral remains in TVA’s collections are stored at those three universities, which, along with the TVA, are among the 10 institutions that ProPublica identified as holding the largest number of remains of Native Americans in the country.

Nine of those 10 institutions have stated to ProPublica that they are committed to returning remains and cultural items to tribal nations. Indiana University has not responded to ProPublica’s requests for comment.

The speed and scale of the TVA’s effort to repatriate everything in its collections concerns some tribal historic preservation officers and cultural directors.

“We’ve never had a collection of this magnitude be left to have the tribes decide,” said Miranda Panther, NAGPRA officer for the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. “Usually we make decisions before transfer of legal control has occurred. So I’m not sure how this process is going to work.”

Archaeologist Megan Cook, who recently became a NAGPRA specialist for TVA, said that consultations will continue with tribes and that the TVA is committed to repatriation “for the long haul.”

Reporting from two Washington state outlets, The Inlander in Spokane and The Bellingham Herald, as well as Axios prompted the president of Western Washington University to issue a statement in response to ProPublica’s investigation.

Last year, the university made the remains of three Native Americans available for return to the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community, according to federal data analyzed by ProPublica. It is the institution’s only repatriation since the law’s passage. The university said in an email that it still holds the remains of at least 63 Native Americans.

“We recognize that we have more work to do to ensure that the ancestral remains we currently house are returned home,” Sabah Randhawa, the president of WWU, said in the statement. “We recognize the need for securing additional expertise and resources.”

A school spokesperson told ProPublica that university leaders are still discussing how much funding, and what expertise, is needed.

ProPublica’s investigation also led to a report by South Florida public radio station WLRN that revealed one museum’s intention to return all of the human remains and funerary objects in its collection to the Seminole Tribe of Florida. ProPublica found that HistoryMiami Museum is one of about 200 institutions across the country that have repatriated no human remains.

HistoryMiami CEO Natalia Crujeiras told WLRN that the museum didn’t know which tribe to repatriate to and that no tribe had claimed them. That began to change in 2019, after the museum learned the Seminole Tribe of Florida planned to claim more than 100 ancestral remains in the museum’s collection.

The museum identified some as belonging to Calusa and Tequesta cultures, though it listed all of the remains as “culturally unidentifiable” in an inventory submitted to the national NAGPRA office in the 1990s. Until 2010, the federal law only mandated the repatriation of remains and items that institutions deemed “culturally affiliated” with a modern tribe.

“It’s really upsetting that they still disassociate the Seminole Tribe of Florida from our ancestors,” Tina Osceola, the tribal historic preservation office director for the Seminole Tribe of Florida, told WLRN. “I don’t think HistoryMiami or anyone else should have the power to tell the Seminole Tribe of Florida who their ancestors are. They have our ancestors. End of story.”

ProPublica’s reporting and database also spurred an investigation by Hearst Connecticut Media Group that found 90% of still-unreturned remains in that state are held by the Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History. According to the news outlet, the museum said it will hire two more full-time staff members to work on repatriation “to meet its own goals and the anticipated federal rule changes.”

A museum spokesperson told ProPublica that it has also secured additional funding for tribal consultations but declined to specify the amount. “We are completely committed to these efforts,” museum Director David Skelly said in a statement.

Student journalists have also used ProPublica’s data to hold their own universities accountable.

At Brown University, student reporting found that in 2018, the campus’ Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology made the remains of 10 ancestors available to the Narragansett Indian Tribe to repatriate. But the tribe’s historic preservation director, John Brown, told The Brown Daily Herald that he wasn’t aware of the notice, and that the museum hadn’t adequately consulted with the tribe before publishing it in the federal register.

The reporting prompted an apology from the museum’s director, Robert Preucel, to the Narragansett Indian Tribe’s historic preservation office. Preucel told the Brown Daily Herald that the museum is “doing everything we can to repatriate all of the human remains” it holds.

At the University of Montana, a spokesperson shared similar comments with the Montana Kaimin, saying that repatriation is a “top priority” for the school, even though completing the work will “take time.”

ProPublica's reporting sparked an investigation by the campus newspaper in February that found the university has no one on staff who is entirely focused on repatriation efforts, despite having been awarded a federal grant last year to hire an employee for such a position. Dave Kuntz, the university’s spokesperson, told ProPublica last week that the school has not been able to fill the position.

Institutions’ Statements on Repatriation

Here’s what other institutions have said in response to recent reporting on repatriation. The figures reported below are from a ProPublica analysis of federal repatriation data from December:

Texas State University’s anthropology department Chairperson Christina Conlee to the University Star: “Our goal here is to repatriate these remains and we’re working towards that. We remain in compliance with the law and we hope that we will make good progress going forward.” The university reported still having the remains of at least 100 Native Americans.

Milwaukee Public Museum President and Chief Executive Ellen Censky in a statement to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: “While it is a long and complex process, our goal is to repatriate all ancestral remains and associated cultural objects identified under NAGPRA.” However, the museum is preparing to move to a new building in 2026, making a timeline to repatriate tough to “pin down.” The museum reported still having the remains of at least 1,600 Native Americans.

University of Texas San Antonio spokesperson Joe Izbrand to Axios and the Paisano, a student publication, regarding remains held by the university’s Center for Archaeological Research: “It is our intention to repatriate all of the remains and objects to the rightful parties, and we are working methodically to facilitate their return, enabled in part by a grant from the National Park Service.” The university reported still having the remains of at least 200 Native Americans.

Penn Museum at the University of Pennsylvania Director Christopher Woods to The Philadelphia Inquirer: “This is incredibly sensitive, time-consuming work. Each case is unique and deserves its own consideration. It is essential to proceed with the utmost care and diligence, as we confront our own history of racism and colonialism. That work is ongoing.” The university’s museum reported still having the remains of at least 400 Native Americans.

Temple University Anthropology Laboratory and Museum in a statement to the Inquirer: “We want to make clear that 100% of the ancestors at Temple University are available for repatriation, and we are actively working to accomplish this.” The university reported still having the remains of at least 100 Native Americans.

A New York University statement to Washington Square News, an independent student newspaper, in a report about remains held by the NYU College of Dentistry: “We did not get started on the efforts to audit and repatriate the remains as early as we should have.” The College of Dentistry reported still having the remains of at least 100 Native Americans.

You can reach us using this form or by contacting repatriation@propublica.org or 206-419-7338 (calls or Signal messages). If you would prefer to use an encrypted app, see our advice at propublica.org/tips. We won’t publish anything you write without getting your permission first.

by Logan Jaffe, Mary Hudetz and Ash Ngu

Impact Matters Most at ProPublica. Here’s How Our Recent Journalism Has Led to Change.

2 years 1 month ago

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week.

In investigative journalism, impact is the coin of the realm. But impact is unpredictable. At ProPublica, our hope is that by exposing problems — or things not working as they should — legislators and policymakers will make changes.

Sometimes, the impact is immediate. In 2009, my colleagues and I reported that the California Board of Registered Nursing took years to discipline problematic nurses, putting patients in harm’s way. Within two days of our story, then-Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger replaced the majority of board members; a day later, the executive director of the board resigned. Our boss had to call ProPublica’s founder to tell him not to expect this to happen every time ProPublica published a big investigation.

Other times, impact is delayed. In 2011, ProPublica and Columbia University’s Stabile Center for Investigative Journalism reported how a program run by the U.S. Department of Education had failed, leaving many borrowers who became disabled in deep financial debt even though they should have qualified to have their federal student loans dismissed. It took until 2021 for the Education Department to say it would forgive $5.8 billion in loans.

It’s hard to know in advance what stories will prompt change or how fast it will happen. Some stories land at the right moment, capturing the attention of politicians running for reelection, those who have a personal connection to an issue or bureaucrats who have been quietly fighting for change from within. Our Local Reporting Network project with the Honolulu Star-Advertiser about the long-known failure of the Department of Hawaiian Home Lands to return Native Hawaiians to ancestral lands prompted lawmakers last year to appropriate $600 million to fix the program, the largest one-time infusion of money in its more than a century of existence. It didn’t hurt that the state had a huge budget surplus.

And then there are those in positions of authority who are committed to the status quo and dead set against reforms no matter how much evidence is presented that something is broken.

All of this is to say that we can get our facts right and do careful analyses and reporting, but when you get into the realm of impact, it’s a little mysterious.

A slew of recent ProPublica stories show the widespread impact our journalism has produced. Many of the original stories are the result of collaborations we undertook with other news organizations. (Be sure to check out our 2022 annual report for a look at our impact last year.)

WHAT WE REPORTED: Last year, we found that four psychologists on Colorado’s roster of child custody evaluators had been charged with harassment or domestic violence. (These evaluators often help determine custody in cases in which abuse allegations play a central role.) One was charged with assault in 2006, after his then-wife said he pushed her to the bathroom floor, according to police reports. He pleaded guilty to harassment in 2007, though he told ProPublica that his guilty plea was a result of poor legal representation and that his ex-wife made false allegations to get him arrested.

IMPACT: Colorado lawmakers are considering two bills that would reform the way family courts handle cases involving allegations of domestic abuse. One bill would require evaluators to have expertise in domestic violence and child abuse and would restrict judges from ordering forced “reunification” treatments that cut a child off from the parent who expressed concerns about abuse or neglect. The second bill would create a task force to study training requirements for judicial personnel on the topics of domestic violence and sexual assault, among other crimes.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: Rep. Mike Weissman, an Aurora Democrat and the chair of the state House Judiciary Committee, praised ProPublica’s investigation. “We don’t usually see in-depth coverage on this kind of thing,” he said.

WHAT WE REPORTED: The Salt Lake Tribune and ProPublica reported how 94 women who alleged they had been sexually abused by a Utah OB/GYN were treated more harshly in Utah’s civil courts than those harmed in other settings. Their cases had to be filed within two years of the alleged abuse, and they faced a $450,000 cap on damages for pain and suffering in medical malpractice cases.

IMPACT: The Utah Legislature passed a bill that would exclude sexual assault from the state’s medical malpractice law going forward. It would not apply to the 94 women.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “I’m so glad that the legislative side of the law corrected this huge problem, fixing that gap in our legal system that 94 women essentially fell through. We’ll fill it in for future people in this situation,” said Brooke, one of the women who says she was abused by the OB/GYN and who asked to be identified by only her first name. (The doctor’s lawyer said the allegations are without merit.)

WHAT WE REPORTED: An investigation last year by ProPublica and the Chicago Tribune revealed that ticketing students in schools was rampant across Illinois, with citations that can result in a fine of up to $750 for fighting, littering, theft, possessing vaping devices and other violations of local ordinances.

IMPACT: A bill in the Illinois legislature, introduced last month, would amend the state’s school code to prohibit school staff from involving police to issue citations to students for incidents that can be addressed through the school’s disciplinary process.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “We have to close that loophole and end school-based ticketing,” said Rep. La Shawn Ford, a Democrat from Chicago who is sponsoring the legislation. “There is no place for this type of system to be in our schools.”

WHAT WE REPORTED: Capitol News Illinois, Lee Enterprises and ProPublica have detailed beatings of patients at a state-run center for people with developmental disabilities and mental illnesses, as well as a concerted effort by some staff members to cover up abuse and serious neglect, and intimidation of employees who reported it.

IMPACT: The Illinois Department of Human Services plans to dramatically reduce the number of patients with developmental disabilities who live at Choate Mental Health and Developmental Center.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “It became clear, I would say certainly over the last year — and, in part, because of your reporting — that there were more significant changes that needed to be made,” Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker said.

WHAT WE REPORTED: An investigation last year by ProPublica and the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists found at least 500 current and former volunteer diplomats, known as honorary consuls, have been accused of crimes or embroiled in controversy.

IMPACT: So far, the investigation has prompted action in nine countries: Jordan, Israel, Latvia, Germany, Austria, Finland, Brazil, Paraguay and Spain. Most recently, a former Lebanese diplomat who was a focus of our investigation was arrested in Romania and U.S. officials are seeking his extradition. Federal prosecutors have accused Mohammad Ibrahim Bazzi of attempting to evade sanctions by trying to launder and move money from the United States to Lebanon.

Bazzi has not made an appearance on the latest charges. In 2018, the U.S. Treasury Department designated Bazzi a “global terrorist,” saying he had funneled money to the militant group Hezbollah. In court papers, Bazzi said the U.S. government had failed to provide evidence that he had financed Hezbollah.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “Mohammad Bazzi thought that he could secretly move hundreds of thousands of dollars from the United States to Lebanon without detection by law enforcement,” Breon Peace, the U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of New York, said in a release. This “arrest proves that Bazzi was wrong.”

WHAT WE REPORTED: ProPublica and The Texas Tribune reported last year that local courts were not following a 2009 Texas law meant to keep people with a history of serious mental health issues from legally acquiring firearms. Despite language in the law that says courts should report any time a judge orders a person, regardless of age, to receive inpatient mental health treatment, we found that some were not reporting juvenile records. As a result, the information was being excluded from the national firearms background check system.

IMPACT: Bipartisan legislation has been filed in the Texas House and Senate that would explicitly require courts to report information on involuntary mental health hospitalizations of juveniles age 16 and older.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “I just want to get this fixed,” said Elliott Naishtat, a former state lawmaker from Austin who authored the 2009 law.

WHAT WE REPORTED: ProPublica and the Chicago Tribune reported how a small Illinois school district, which operates a therapeutic day school for students with severe emotional and behavioral disabilities, turned to police to arrest students at a rate higher than any school in America.

IMPACT: The U.S. Department of Education has opened a civil rights investigation into whether the Four Rivers Special Education District has denied children enrolled at the Garrison School an appropriate education because of the “practice of referring students to law enforcement for misbehaviors.”

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING: “I think it’s long overdue,” a parent named Lena said of the federal attention on Garrison. (ProPublica and the Tribune referred to her by her first name only in order to avoid identifying her child.) “I want some kind of change for that school and the students still in there. I want them to find out everything that was done; I want somebody held accountable for all the crap that people are put through there.”

Some say investigative reporting is a decidedly pessimistic profession. We disagree. The examples above show why there’s reason to be optimistic. When we bring problems to the public’s attention, people of good faith often work to fix them.

by Charles Ornstein