Powerful institutions are required to write things down. Cost reports, court dockets, inspection files, adverse-event databases — the record of what an institution did, and often of what it would rather you never notice, is already public. It stays hidden only because reading it is slow, technical work that almost no one does. That work is the whole of my beat.
I report on corporate accountability in U.S. healthcare and other regulated industries, and I build every story from the underlying documents — never a press release, never a summary. Federal court dockets pulled through PACER and RECAP. Medicare cost reports read at the worksheet level in CMS's HCRIS system. Payroll-based staffing files, ownership and enrollment records, OSHA fatality inspections, FDA adverse-event data, EPA and state environmental filings. The primary record, line by line.
The investigations that hold me share one shape: real harm, deliberately made hard to see. How private-equity owners route cash and liability out of the nursing homes that care for the elderly — legible in the shell entities of federal ownership data and the related-party rent Medicare disallows on Worksheet A-8-1. How immigration enforcement migrated from a phone app to a GPS ankle monitor, and what the contractors running it promise their investors. Who is cited, and who never is, when a worker dies on a data-center construction site. A drug-safety signal surfacing in the FDA's own data quarters before anyone writes it down.
The method underneath is plain and non-negotiable. Nothing runs as fact without a primary document behind it. Contested claims are attributed and carry the answer of the party they name. Every institution I write about gets a real chance to respond before I publish. The rigor is not ornament — it is what separates an investigation from an accusation.
The toolkit comes from an earlier life in data and software, which is an advantage rather than a detour: I can pull a federal dataset most reporters never open, and write the code to make it usable when it arrives broken. I studied rhetoric and writing at the University of Texas at Austin, and I report from the Texas–Mexico border — a dual citizen, working both sides of the line in either language.