Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis' administration is once again trying to carve out broad new exemptions to the state's celebrated government transparency law. This time, lawyers for DeSantis are arguing that call logs from a high-ranking staffer's phone aren't public record, even though the staffer was conducting government business, because it was a private phone. The Tampa Bay Times first reported Thursday that lawyers for the DeSantis adm
Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis' administration is once again trying to carve out broad new exemptions to the state's celebrated government transparency law.
This time, lawyers for DeSantis are arguing that call logs from a high-ranking staffer's phone aren't public record, even though the staffer was conducting government business, because it was a private phone.
The Tampa Bay Timesfirst reported Thursday that lawyers for the DeSantis administration argued in court this week before a Leon County judge that the governor's office shouldn't be compelled to turn over call logs from DeSantis' Chief of Staff James Uthmeier's private cellphone.
The Florida Center for Government Accountability sued the DeSantis administration in 2022 for records concerning the migrant flights to Martha's Vineyard that DeSantis organized that year using state resources. The governor's office has turned over many records so far—and disclosed that Uthmeier and other staff used personal email addresses and phones rather than their state-issued ones—but it is currently defying a court order to release Uthmeier's phone logs.
"Florida is no longer the Sunshine State when it comes to transparency," says Michael Barfield, the Center's director of public access. "The public's right to know is headed into darkness."
Public records laws are commonly interpreted at both the federal and state levels, including in Florida, to cover records created on private devices and accounts if they concern government business. For example, the 2023 edition of the Florida attorney general's Government-in-the-Sunshine Manual states that "the mere fact that an e-mail is sent from a private e-mail account using a personal computer is not the determining factor as to whether it is a public record; it is whether the e-mail was prepared or received in connection with official agency business."
The manual also notes that "a public official or employee's use of a private cell phone to conduct public business via text messaging 'can create an electronic written public record subject to disclosure' if the text message is 'prepared, owned, used, or retained…within the scope of his or her employment or agency.'"
But DeSantis' lawyers are arguing that Uthmeier's call logs are "tertiary data," the Tampa Bay Times reports:
"If you hold that these tertiary data points are somehow public records that also have to be captured by a public records custodian, that is a sweeping — sweeping — interpretation of public records," DeSantis lawyer Christopher Lunny told Leon County Circuit Judge Lee Marsh on Tuesday.
But under that argument, Marsh said, all government business could be shielded from the public.
"We ought to just put out word, 'Let's do all of our business on private, bring-your-own cellphones," Marsh said. "Then we don't need public records laws because there'll be no public records, right?"
As Reason described in a magazine feature last year on Florida's Sunshine Law, the DeSantis administration is not just chipping away at the once-powerful public records law; it's taking a sledgehammer to it. State lawmakers have made the governor's travel records secret, and the DeSantis administration has also tried to invoke executive privilege over other documents, a privilege that is found nowhere in Florida's Sunshine Law and has never been claimed by previous governors.
DeSantis' office did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
Very few governments and government agencies value the transparency and accountability that robust open records laws create. It took an act of Congress to even establish a presumptive right of access to government records. And all across the United States, state governments are always trying to find some way to limit access without getting hit with an injunction from courts that seem far more respectful of this right than the governments and agencies obliged to conform with statutory requirement
Very few governments and government agencies value the transparency and accountability that robust open records laws create. It took an act of Congress to even establish a presumptive right of access to government records. And all across the United States, state governments are always trying to find some way to limit access without getting hit with an injunction from courts that seem far more respectful of this right than the governments and agencies obliged to conform with statutory requirements.
Not for nothing is it pretty much de rigueur to engage in litigation to obtain records from entities legally required to hand them over. New Jersey is the latest state to help itself to more opacity while placing more obligations on the public — you know, the people who pay their salaries. While there have been a few moves towards the positive side of this equation over the past decade, legislators and Governor Phil Murphy have decided the public only deserves to know what the government feels like telling it.
As Matt Friedman reports for Politico, the new normal in New Jersey is discouraging people from suing after their records requests have been blown off by state agencies. This isn’t anything state residents want. This is the governor protecting the government from the people it’s supposed to be serving.
The problematic law doesn’t dial back any obligations to respond to requests. Instead, it’s a bit more nefarious. It assumes government entities will fail to comply with their statutory obligations, but passes that cost on to the people directly by making it far more expensive to force records out of agencies’ hands.
Here’s the impetus:
The push for the bill has largely come from lobbyists for county and local governments, who say records custodians are burdened by commercial and unreasonable requests by a small number of people.
And here’s the outcome:
Most controversially, the legislation would end the current practice of mandatory “fee shifting,” in which governments pay the “reasonable” legal costs for any requester who successfully challenges a records denial in court. It would instead leave it up to a judge, who would only be required to award the legal costs to the plaintiff if they determine the denial was made in “bad faith,” “unreasonably,” or the government agency “knowingly or willfully” violated the law.
That places the burden of litigation almost entirely on records requesters. If they decide to initiate litigation to obtain what the law says the state must turn over, they’re now faced with the possibility of not being able to recover their litigation costs even if a judge rules a government agency must turn over the requested records. All the government needs to demonstrate (and a judge needs to trust its narrative) is that any failure to provide records wasn’t a “knowing” violation of the law. This is the government seeing all the litigation non-compliant agencies generate and somehow arriving at the conclusion that it just must be too easy to sue the government for refusing to uphold its end of the public records bargain.
And that’s not all. The law also grants a presumptive fee burden on requesters, requiring them to demonstrate (to agencies already unwilling to comply with requests) that the requested fees are “unreasonable.” More specificity is also demanded of requesters, which is insane because requesters in some cases can’t possibly know the specifics of the records they’re requesting and will likely only have those specifics if the government agency actually hands over the records.
Bizarrely, it also bars requesters from sharing any photo or video received via a public records request if it contains “any indecent or graphic images of the subject’s intimate part” without getting direct permission from the person captured in the recording or photo. And that makes it pretty easy for the government to bury photos and recordings it doesn’t want to have shared by refusing to redact or blur any footage/photos containing an “intimate part.”
That means things like a violent arrest of person suffering a mental health crisis could be buried just because (as happens frequently in cases like these) the person being violently subdued by cops is underclothed or naked. If nothing else, it passes on the expense of redacting footage to those receiving the recordings, rather than place that obligation on those releasing records that might violate the stipulations of the revised public records law.
The gist of the law — and definitely the gist of the governor’s statement [PDF] in support of his own signature on said law — is that the government is real victim here. It’s being steadily crushed under the litigious heel of requesters who sue when the government violates the law, refuses to hand over records it’s obligated to hand over, or just make what the government considers to be too many records requests.
After a thorough examination of the provisions of the bill, I am persuaded that the changes, viewed comprehensively, are relatively modest.
Hmmm. Except that no one but government entities seeking greater opacity (or at least angling for a lower obligation for responses) is in favor of this law. Anyone actually engaged in transparency and accountability efforts doesn’t see this as “modest” revision of the state’s public records law, much less as a win for the general public. This is the government doing what it does with its greatest enthusiasm: protecting itself from the people it’s supposed to be serving.
In December 2022, the Albuquerque Police Department (APD) received a tip that officers assigned to the APD's DWI unit were getting paid to make cases disappear. The tipster specifically mentioned Honorio Alba, one of several officers who would later resign amid a burgeoning corruption scandal featuring that very allegation. Yet an internal investigation found no evidence to substantiate the tip. That episode, recently revealed by City Desk ABQ, h
In December 2022, the Albuquerque Police Department (APD) received a tip that officers assigned to the APD's DWI unit were getting paid to make cases disappear. The tipster specifically mentioned Honorio Alba, one of several officers who would later resign amid a burgeoning corruption scandal featuring that very allegation. Yet an internal investigation found no evidence to substantiate the tip.
That episode, recently revealed by City Desk ABQ, helps explain why evidence of longstanding corruption within the DWI unit did not come to light until the FBI began looking into it. "We're dealing with stuff that we anticipate started decades ago, and we've done a lot of things that have got us to this point," Albuquerque Police Chief Harold Medina said at a press conference in February. "But we will continue to dig and look and leave no stone unturned and make sure that we get to the bottom of this."
It seems like the department left plenty of stones unturned when it had a chance to clean its own house before the feds stepped in. Instead of telling the FBI about the alleged corruption, the APD apparently did not take the situation seriously until after it heard from the FBI.
In October 2023, 10 months after the APD's Criminal Intelligence Unit launched its fruitless probe, the FBI informed Medina that it was investigating the DWI unit. The following month, Albuquerque's Civilian Police Oversight Agency received a letter from a local court official who said Alba reportedly had pulled over a speeding, flagrantly drunk driver and, instead of filing charges, referred him to a specific local defense attorney.
The FBI investigation became public knowledge after agents executed search warrants at that attorney's office and the homes of several officers in January 2024. Local news outlets began looking into DWI cases that had been handled by Alba and his colleagues. They found suspiciously low conviction rates that somehow had eluded the APD's investigators in 2022.
In response to the corruption allegations, the Bernalillo County District Attorney's Office dropped some 200 DWI cases, saying it could not rely on the testimony of the cops who had made the arrests. KOB, the NBC affiliate in Albuquerque, reported that Alba, who was honored as "Officer of the Year" by the New Mexico chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving last July, was the arresting officer in many of those cases.
KRQE, the local CBS affiliate, looked at DWI cases filed during the previous six years. It found that Joshua Montaño, a 19-year veteran, "was named as the officer in at least 36 cases" in which the defendants were represented by Thomas Clear, the lawyer whose office the FBI had searched. Nearly 90 percent of those cases "ended in dismissals."
City Desk ABQ examined "85 DWI cases dating back to 2017" involving Clear and Alba, Montaño, or two other members of the DWI unit, Harvey Johnson and Nelson Ortiz. It found that 14 percent of the cases ended with trial convictions or plea deals, which was "much lower than the Metro Court average of 56% convictions in DWI cases over the same years." The other 86 percent were dismissed, typically because officers did not show up at pretrial interviews or hearings. The "vast majority" of the defendants were arrested by Alba or Montaño.
Why didn't the APD discover any of this back in 2022? Acting Sgt. Jon O'Guin "started gathering information but—after looking through officer activity—didn't turn up any evidence," City Desk ABQ reports, citing a five-page "intel file" that it obtained through a public records request.
According to the tipster, APD spokesman Gilbert Gallegos told City DeskABQ, three bars in Northeast Albuquerque were alerting police to intoxicated patrons so they could be nabbed after they drove away. "They were targeting individuals, who then could get their cases dismissed," Gallegos said, describing the tip. "So they would arrest and charge them and then get their cases dismissed and there would be some sort of payment for that."
In response to that tip, City Desk ABQ says, O'Guin examined "the activity of the seven officers who were on the DWI unit at that time, including Alba, Johnson and Montaño." But his investigation apparently was limited to the specific allegation, as opposed to the general claim that officers were helping arrestees avoid charges in exchange for payoffs.
In December 2022, the officers' activity "did not show any obvious indicators that would match the allegations of the information received for the initial complaint in regards to increased activity in the areas of the three locations mentioned in NE Albuquerque," O'Guin wrote in the intel file. "All officers' CAD [computer-aided dispatch] activity showed what would appear to be normal traffic stops and requests for assistance responses across the city." The same was true, he said, for October and November.
That summary of O'Guin's investigation is dated January 2024, by which point the FBI had collected enough evidence to obtain search warrants. "When the allegations were relayed from the FBI, the detective was asked to update the file with documentation of the work that was initially done," Gallegos explained. "So that part of the report was dated January 2024, when he provided that information."
Given the timing, O'Guin's gloss may have been deliberately self-exculpating. In any case, he evidently never thought to look at what was generally happening with the DWI cases that Alba et al. handled. If he had, he would have discovered the same curious pattern that reporters found after the FBI raids. Those high dismissal rates reinforce the allegation that these officers, after stopping drivers for DWI, would "get their cases dismissed" in exchange for "some sort of payment."
No corruption charges have been filed yet. But Alba, Montaño, Johnson, Ortiz, and Lt. Justin Hunt all resigned after they were placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of another internal investigation, this one prompted by the FBI probe and the letter to the Civilian Police Oversight Agency. On Tuesday, APD spokesman Daren DeAguero, a 15-year veteran who served in the DWI unit from 2014 to 2018, joined the line of exiting officers.
DeAguero resigned the same day he was scheduled to be interviewed by internal investigators. "Due to the current situation of receiving a letter of investigation with very little time to obtain adequate representation," he wrote in a memo to Medina, "I unfortunately will be ending my employment [with] the Albuquerque Police Department effective April 30, 2024."
Montaño was more expansive when he resigned on March 20. "When I was put on administrative leave, I thought there would be an opportunity for me to talk to the department about what I knew regarding the FBI's investigation," he wrote. "I thought there would be a time [when] I could disclose what I knew from within APD and how the issues I let myself get caught up in within the DWI Unit were generational. I thought there would be a time where I could talk about all the other people who should be on administrative leave as well, but aren't."
Montaño said he ultimately decided against cooperating with APD investigators. "In order for me to talk to the City about what I knew," he wrote, "I needed to not be the City's scapegoat for its own failures." He complained that Medina "has made it seem like there are just a few bad officers acting on their own." That is "far from the truth," Montaño said.
Among other things, the FBI reportedly is investigating claims that officers deliberately missed court dates, resulting in the dismissal of DWI cases. But according to Montaño, "officers all know that our attendance, or non-attendance, at Court is watched over and monitored." While "I take responsibility for my actions," he said, the responsibility for the alleged misconduct extends up the chain of command and more than a few years back in time—probably "decades," according to Medina himself.
"There is a much bigger story here," Montaño's lawyer, Thomas Grover, toldCity Desk ABQ. "If Officer Montaño is a cinder block in this saga, there's a whole wall to address. It goes outward and upward."
Over the past decade, scientists working at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) have earned an estimated $400 million in royalties from third-party companies for medical treatments and innovations they've helped produce. The NIH often provides grants to these same companies and produces research on their products. Despite that, the agency has resisted disclosing how much its scientists are getting paid and by whom. A bill moving its way throu
Over the past decade, scientists working at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) have earned an estimated $400 million in royalties from third-party companies for medical treatments and innovations they've helped produce. The NIH often provides grants to these same companies and produces research on their products. Despite that, the agency has resisted disclosing how much its scientists are getting paid and by whom.
A bill moving its way through Congress would change that.
On Wednesday, the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee passed the Royalty Transparency Act of 2024 by a 12–0 vote.
The legislation would require that royalties received by federal government employees be included in their financial disclosures and that those disclosures be made available online for the general public to view.
"This is just basic 101 of conflict of interest. We're letting the billions of dollars that change hands over at NIH and between NIH and Big Pharma to be completely unscrutinized," says Sen. Rand Paul (R–Ky.), the author of the legislation. "This is probably the first reform bill that actually has a chance to correct some of the things that are rotten in the system."
The NIH's lack of transparency about the royalties paid to its scientists has been a source of controversy for decades.
A 2005 investigation by the Associated Press revealed that NIH scientists were receiving royalties for companies' pharmaceutical treatments that the agency was also studying in clinical trials.
That investigation prompted the NIH to require its employees to disclose these royalty payments to patients in clinical trials. But that information was still kept from the general public.
In 2021, watchdog group Open the Books filed public records requests (and when those were ignored, a lawsuit) seeking more information on royalties paid to NIH employees.
Initially, the NIH only released heavily redacted documents showing which employees had received royalties but not how much they were paid, who they were being paid by, or what they were being paid for.
In 2023, the NIH at last released new documents showing which companies were paying royalties to NIH scientists and more information on what the royalties were for. But the agency continues to redact how much individual scientists are earning from these royalties.
Paul's bill would require individual royalty amounts to be disclosed. The legislation would also require that members of federal advisory committees that make public health recommendations produce financial disclosures.
"With the approval of the COVID mandates and COVID vaccine mandates, the committees approving these, we had the question, well, are there people on these committees who get royalties from the companies that manufacture the vaccine?" Paul tells Reason. "When I asked [Anthony] Fauci about this a year ago, his angry response was that it was none of our business and that he didn't have to tell us."
Having passed out of committee, Paul's bill will now need the approval of the full Senate and then the House of Representatives.
Last July, the New Mexico chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) picked Honorio Alba Jr., a member of the Albuquerque Police Department's DWI unit, as "Officer of the Year." A few months later, Albuquerque's Civilian Police Oversight Agency received a letter about "questionable conduct" by Alba. Instead of arresting an intoxicated driver who nearly caused a crash while speeding and subsequently drove onto a curb, Alba reportedly had refe
Last July, the New Mexico chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) picked Honorio Alba Jr., a member of the Albuquerque Police Department's DWI unit, as "Officer of the Year." A few months later, Albuquerque's Civilian Police Oversight Agency received a letter about "questionable conduct" by Alba. Instead of arresting an intoxicated driver who nearly caused a crash while speeding and subsequently drove onto a curb, Alba reportedly had referred him to a specific local attorney. That letter triggered a corruption investigation, and last week Alba resigned prior to a scheduled interview with his department's internal affairs division.
Alba was one of five Albuquerque officers who were placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of the internal probe and a related FBI investigation. Another officer, Lt. Justin Hunt, resigned a few weeks ago. The FBI is looking into allegations that Alba and his colleagues got paid to make DWI cases disappear by failing to testify. Although no charges have been filed yet, FBI agents have executed search warrants at cops' homes and at the office of Thomas Clear, an Albuquerque attorney who specializes in DWI cases.
Albuquerque Police Chief Harold Medina has promised to "leave no stone unturned and make sure that we get to the bottom of this." But Medina himself is the subject of an internal investigation that he requested after he broadsided a car last month, severely injuring the driver. Medina's fishy account of that incident is apt to reinforce the public distrust generated by the corruption scandal.
In response to the corruption allegations, the Bernalillo County District Attorney's Office dropped some 200 DWI cases, saying it could not rely on the testimony of the cops who had made the arrests. KOB, the NBC affiliate in Albuquerque, reports that Alba was the arresting officer in many of those cases. KRQE, the local CBS affiliate, looked at DWI cases filed during the previous six years. It found that another cop who was placed on leave, Joshua Montaño, "was named as the officer in at least 36 cases" in which the defendants were represented by Clear, and "nearly 90% of those cases ended in dismissals."
Speaking in general terms about the corruption investigation at a February 2 press conference, Chief Medina noted that DWI cases often are dismissed when officers are unavailable to testify, an outcome that defense attorneys can make more likely by seeking trial delays. "Systems that struggle, systems that have loopholes, are really open to corruption," Medina said. "We're dealing with stuff that we anticipate started decades ago, and we've done a lot of things that have got us to this point. But we will continue to dig and look and leave no stone unturned and make sure that we get to the bottom of this."
That promise of transparency and accountability was undermined two weeks later, when Medina ran a red light and collided with a car that had the right of way. On Saturday, February 17, according to a press release from the Albuquerque Police Department (APD), Medina "was headed to a news conference in his unmarked department issued vehicle"—a pickup truck—"with his wife." They were in the left turn lane on Alvarado Drive NE at the intersection with Central Avenue when they "witnessed two individuals fighting." They "then saw one of the individuals pull out a gun," and "shots were fired." Since "Chief Medina and his wife were in the direct line of fire," he "took evasive action through the intersection to get his vehicle away from the gunfire."
The official account describes what happened next without reference to Medina's culpability. "A gold Mustang was traveling eastbound on Central and continued forward as Chief Medina was entering the intersection," it says, "and the vehicles collided."
Medina gives a more detailed account in a video he recorded a few days after the crash. "When we were driving down Central," he says, "I noticed that there could possibly be a homeless encampment on Alvarado north of Central." He took a detour and drove past the encampment, planning to call an underling about it. At the intersection of Alvarado and Central, he stopped for a red light. "My wife stated, 'Look, those two homeless individuals are about to get into a fight,'" he said. "My wife stated, 'gun, gun.' I looked up, and I could hear that a shot had been fired, and I saw an individual that was holding a firearm pointing it at another individual who was directly in line with my wife."
Medina decided "the best thing I could do was get my wife out of the way and regroup and see what the best response would be." He claims he proceeded with care. "I looked to my left, and the intersection was cleared," he says. "I thought that…the car was going to pass before I got there, and it did not. And unfortunately, I struck the vehicle. The occupant of the other vehicle was injured, and it's just another sign of how gun violence sometimes impacts our community."
Former Bernalillo County Sheriff Darren White, a former crash investigator, was skeptical of that self-exculpating story after examining surveillance video of the accident. "It's clear by the video that that wasn't the case," he told KOAT, the ABC affiliate in Albuquerque. "He cuts off a vehicle immediately. That's westbound on Central. Had to slam on its brakes. You can see that. And then he bolts across what is potentially one of the busiest roadways in the state of New Mexico and broadsides a car."
As White sees it, "the chief was not looking" because "he was distracted by something." He added, "I don't mean the shooting" because Medina was "already across the intersection" at that point.
Tom Grover, a local attorney who represents police officers accused of misconduct, sees several possible policy violations. In an interview with KOAT, "Grover said some of the violations the chief could be in trouble for include having his wife in the car and taking police action, not having his radio turned on and not turning on his lights and siren" when "he ran the red light."
Medina also belatedly activated his body camera. "My camera wasn't on at the beginning of this incident," he says in the video. "I think that everybody's been held accountable for cameras, and I wanted to make sure that I was investigated…Did I have time to turn this on? Was it proper for me to have it on before then?"
KOAT notes that "some say officers have been fired for similar conduct." In 2017, for example, an Albuquerque police officer "was rushing with lights and sirens to a call of a man armed with a machete when a car pulled out in front of him. The person driving that car died in the crash. The city fired the officer and paid more than $3 million in a civil suit." In 2013, a 21-year-old woman died after another Albuquerque officer "sped through a red light at Paseo Del Norte and Eagle Ranch, hitting her car." The city paid $8.5 million to settle a lawsuit by her family. The officer was convicted of careless driving and sentenced to 90 days in jail.
Albuquerque Mayor Tim Keller appeared unfazed by Medina's seemingly similar conduct. "Whether it's our city or the individuals that he helped, or potentially the lives that he saved because of the shooting that was happening," Keller said after the crash, "we all owe him a debt of gratitude today and every day."
This week the Albuquerque City Council rejected a proposal for an independent task force to investigate the incident. The members who voted against the idea noted that Victor Valdez, the former judge who has been charged with investigating the crash as the APD's superintendent of police reform, does not report to the chief.
"I would hope that there is no bias, but it appears like there possibly could be," said City Councilor Renee Grout, one of four council members who favored the task force. "We just need to have some accountability. We need to have transparency. I don't think that it would hurt to have this outside investigation. I think it would help the community have better trust in our APD force."
Enlarge (credit: Benj Edwards / Getty Images)
On Tuesday, ChatGPT users began reporting unexpected outputs from OpenAI's AI assistant, flooding the r/ChatGPT Reddit sub with reports of the AI assistant "having a stroke," "going insane," "rambling," and "losing it." OpenAI has acknowledged the problem and is working on a fix, but the experience serves as a high-profile example of how some people perceive malfunctioning large language models, which are designed to mimic humanli
On Tuesday, ChatGPT users began reporting unexpected outputs from OpenAI's AI assistant, flooding the r/ChatGPT Reddit sub with reports of the AI assistant "having a stroke," "going insane," "rambling," and "losing it." OpenAI has acknowledged the problem and is working on a fix, but the experience serves as a high-profile example of how some people perceive malfunctioning large language models, which are designed to mimic humanlike output.
ChatGPT is not alive and does not have a mind to lose, but tugging on human metaphors (called "anthropomorphization") seems to be the easiest way for most people to describe the unexpected outputs they have been seeing from the AI model. They're forced to use those terms because OpenAI doesn't share exactly how ChatGPT works under the hood; the underlying large language models function like a black box.
"It gave me the exact same feeling—like watching someone slowly lose their mind either from psychosis or dementia," wrote a Reddit user named z3ldafitzgerald in response to a post about ChatGPT bugging out. "It’s the first time anything AI related sincerely gave me the creeps."