theintercept--2020-10-31--Trump Boasts About Bringing American Hostages Home. Austin Tice Poses a Challenge.

who have been kidnapped overseas back home has been a central plank of Donald Trump ’ s foreign policy , and the most visible totem of his election promise to bring America back from its costly adventures around the world .
It ’ s a strategy that has had some success , and one that he ’ s repeatedly returned to in the final months of his campaign for reelection .
On October 18 , the Wall Street Journal reported that Kash Patel , a deputy assistant to Trump and the most senior counterterrorism official at the White House , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ talks on how to get American hostages , most notably the missing journalist Austin Tice , back home .
Those talks were followed , according to the same article , by a similar conversation in Washington in mid-October between Lebanon ’ s security chief Abbas Ibrahim , who has helped retrieve Americans from Syrian prisons before , and national security adviser Robert O ’ Brien .
Such a flurry of activity could only have happened on the say-so of Trump , who clearly believes that that going the extra mile to bringing missing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the media .
He has invited freed hostages , like Egyptian American aid worker Aya Hijazi , to the White House for photo ops , and has included the families of Americans killed overseas in campaign events .
On the closing night of the Republican National convention in August , the parents of Kayla Mueller , the American humanitarian worker held hostage , brutalized , and likely murdered by the Islamic State in Syria , were given center stage as they announced their support for the president .
Following Trump ’ s success @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Korea in 2018 , in October the administration secured the release of two other Americans , a businessman and a humanitarian worker , who were being held in Yemen by Houthis supportive of Iran .
The latter deal was personally overseen by Patel ; in return , according to press reports , he facilitated the release of nearly 250 Houthi fighters stranded in neighboring Oman .
It hasn ’ t always worked out so well .
Despite extensive lobbying by Secretary of State Mike Pompeo over the plight of Moustafa Kassem , an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years in Sisi ’ s Egypt for alleged political sympathies , died in this past January after a long hunger strike .
Tice is one of two U.S. citizens known to be detained in Syria , the other being Majd Kamalmaz , a Syrian aid worker who was taken in 2017 .
Tice , however , remains the Trump administration ’ s biggest prize .
The FBI has offered a $ 1 million reward for information leading to his recovery and return ; no such reward is listed for Kamalmaz .
The Tice @ @ @ @ @ @ @ alliance of neoconservative ideologues and old-fashioned Trumpist conservatives who make up the current U.S. administration .
The imperative to free hostages held overseas is a recurrent theme of former national security adviser John Bolton ’ s recent memoir “ The Room Where It Happened , ” to Bolton and Pompeo ’ s growing concern .
They worried about the legitimacy such deal-making affords their authoritarian adversaries — and the possible quid pro quo .
Pompeo and Bolton “ didn ’ t like the idea ” of Pompeo going to Pyongyang , Bolton writes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but freeing the hostages was sufficiently important that we decided to swallow it.
” When Marine One arrived back on American soil , nearly overflying the illuminated Washington Monument on its way , Trump — who greeted Pompeo and the hostages — was on “ cloud nine , ” reports Bolton , “ because this was a success even the hostile media could not diminish.
” Just this week , Tice ’ s mother Debra blamed Pompeo for getting in the way of U.S. efforts to secure her son ’ s release .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ undermining the President ’ s crucial outreach , refusing any form of direct diplomatic engagement with the Syrian government , ” she said in a statement on Monday .
Pompeo was happy to engage with the Syrians , but balked at using formal diplomatic channels .
In the early days of the Trump administration , reported Adam Goldman in the New York Times , Pompeo spoke on the phone with Ali Mamlouk , then the powerful head of Syria ’ s National Security Bureau and a trusted adviser to Assad .
The calls @ @ @ @ @ @ @ governments for years .
But whereas Pompeo preferred using a back channel , presumably to avoid giving the Syrian government the legitimacy it wants , Trump seems happy to talk to anyone who might help bring Americans home — regardless of the consequences .
Now , with Bolton gone and Trump in full-tilt election mode , Trump ’ s ambition to bring Tice home is being given free rein .
Dozens of people , myself included , have been chipping away for years at the story of what happened to Tice .
While @ @ @ @ @ @ @ certain is that the prospects for his return are slim .
eight years after he disappeared , the fate of Austin Tice is more murky and politically pertinent than ever .
On May 23 , 2012 , this intrepid 30-year-old former Marine Corps captain , fired by enthusiasm for the Arab Spring and burnishing an ambition to be a photojournalist , slipped under a fence into northern Syria .
Tice jumped from one ragtag rebel militia to another and managed bylines in no less than the Washington Post and McClatchy until he arrived @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he promptly disappeared on August 13 .
Most Syria-watchers surmise that he fell into the hands of Syrian government forces .
In the years that followed , concerns about Tice became a cause célèbre among journalism and veteran organizations .
Tice ’ s face appeared on billboards and ads : In 2015 , Reporters Without Borders partnered with ad agency J. Walter Thompson on a public awareness campaign to put pressure on the U.S administration to bring Tice back home .
The Obama administration , however , seemed to be dragging its heels @ @ @ @ @ @ @ journalists and aid workers by ISIS in 2014 , and amid a general perception that little was done to get them out , new moves were made to help families deal with the plight of missing loved ones and help get them back , including the opening of an office of Special Presidential Envoy for Hostage Affairs .
But nothing much changed .
The best evidence we have about Tice remains a 47-second video that popped onto the internet six weeks after he went missing .
It shows Tice on a mountainside , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The production value and neatly laundered , Afghan-style clothes of the armed men seemed out of kilter , as if those who made it were engaged in a deliberate parody .
Most reporters who watched it smelled a rat ; since the Syrian government ’ s central propaganda claim was that it was battling Al Qaeda , its agents had every reason to show an American in jihadi captivity .
At the time , I called one of the young rebels who ’ d worked to get Tice — and later myself @ @ @ @ @ @ @ earlier .
“ Faked ” was his verdict .
“ Now we know he is with the regime.
” Over the next years , in a long investigation for Vanity Fair and then for my book “ Hunting Season , ” I continued scraping away at the mystery of who was lying about Tice .
Most reports assume that he was detained at a checkpoint near Darraya , the Damascus suburb where he last stayed , but that was never my information .
From the 29-year-old IT graduate who ’ d acted as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a report prepared for the Tice family by rebels there , I learned that Tice had left with the same rebel driver who ’ d brought him there .
Much later , however , the rebels told me that they ’ d received information that the driver ’ s son had been kidnapped by the Syrian Mukhabarat , and that “ the regime offered to release his son in exchange for Austin.
” The more people I spoke to , the fuzzier the story became , but what was clear from their begrudging @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been kidnapped by the regime per se — he ’ d been traded by a few of the rebels he trusted , either for money or to get some of their own people back .
Someone was continuing to take an interest in his case ; a Syrian American friend of Tice ’ s sent him a Facebook message on August 12 , 2012 , and it was marked as read on October 29 the following year , according to a screenshot of the chat .
It was in the course of looking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ young American languishing , incommunicado in a Damascus prison .
Starting from the same Turkish border city of Antakya just months after Tice , Kevin Dawes had launched himself into Syria in October and had promptly been arrested by Syrian government forces .
A few months after I published a story about him for GQ ’ s U.K. edition , he was released .
One irony of the case is that Dawes had gone to Syria , in part , in an ill-advised effort to bring back information about Tice .
He wasn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2016 , according to Adam Goldman of the Times , “ the American intelligence community concluded with moderate to high confidence in a secret analysis that Mr. Tice was alive , based partly on a report that he had been seen at a hospital in Damascus , being treated for dehydration.
” But moderate-to-high confidence is not necessarily more than a rumor .
One former Syrian official who was part of a high-level American initiative to bring Tice home and then worked closely with the Tice family told me that their team tried @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but found nothing to support it .
In any case , it sounded far-fetched , the former official said ; alleged hospital sightings are common in such cases .
After all their years of looking , they found no real proof that Tice was alive .
In November 2018 , O ’ Brien , then the U.S. Special Presidential Envoy for Hostage Affairs , said he had “ every reason to believe ” that Tice was still alive .
Everyone else should remain skeptical .
Tice ’ s parents appear to have seen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other than a combination of assurances and suggestions from the U.S. government .
In his most recent televised statement on Tice , in March , Trump himself admitted that he has no evidence that the journalist remains alive .
It ’ s not only Trump , of course , who might see political advantage in resolving the whereabouts of Tice .
On October 19 , following the report in the Wall Street Journal , the pro-government Syrian paper Al-Watan reported that two high-ranking American officials visited the Syrian capital in an effort to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Washington ” in the case of Americans missing in Syria , chief among them Tice .
At issue on the Syrian side were punishing U.S. sanctions on the Syrian government imposed earlier this year , and the continued presence of American soldiers in the northeast of the country .
But it wasn ’ t clear that the Syrians had anything to offer in return .
“ Information suggests that his [ Tice ’ s ] disappearance was due to the struggle of extremist groups that had recently emerged in Eastern Ghouta , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it , noted a former contractor for the Syrian government who is still inside the country , must have been approved by the presidential palace .
“ They are setting the ground to say that he is dead and we recovered the body.
” Debra Tice repeated in her statement on Monday Trump ’ s previous claim that we “ will not rest until we bring Austin home.
” For the sake of Tice ’ s family , let ’ s hope the American president is not promising more than he can deliver @

Bringing U.S. citizens who have been kidnapped overseas back home has been a central plank of Donald Trump’s foreign policy, and the most visible totem of his election promise to bring America back from its costly adventures around the world. It’s a strategy that has had some success, and one that he’s repeatedly returned to in the final months of his campaign for reelection.
On October 18, the Wall Street Journal reported that Kash Patel, a deputy assistant to Trump and the most senior counterterrorism official at the White House, traveled to Damascus earlier this year for talks on how to get American hostages, most notably the missing journalist Austin Tice, back home. Those talks were followed, according to the same article, by a similar conversation in Washington in mid-October between Lebanon’s security chief Abbas Ibrahim, who has helped retrieve Americans from Syrian prisons before, and national security adviser Robert O’Brien.
Such a flurry of activity could only have happened on the say-so of Trump, who clearly believes that that going the extra mile to bringing missing Americans home is popular with voters and the media. He has invited freed hostages, like Egyptian American aid worker Aya Hijazi, to the White House for photo ops, and has included the families of Americans killed overseas in campaign events. On the closing night of the Republican National convention in August, the parents of Kayla Mueller, the American humanitarian worker held hostage, brutalized, and likely murdered by the Islamic State in Syria, were given center stage as they announced their support for the president.
Photo: Courtesy of RNC/Getty Images
Following Trump’s success in getting three Americans back from North Korea in 2018, in October the administration secured the release of two other Americans, a businessman and a humanitarian worker, who were being held in Yemen by Houthis supportive of Iran. The latter deal was personally overseen by Patel; in return, according to press reports, he facilitated the release of nearly 250 Houthi fighters stranded in neighboring Oman. It hasn’t always worked out so well. Despite extensive lobbying by Secretary of State Mike Pompeo over the plight of Moustafa Kassem, an Egyptian American who was held for six years in Sisi’s Egypt for alleged political sympathies, died in this past January after a long hunger strike.
Tice is one of two U.S. citizens known to be detained in Syria, the other being Majd Kamalmaz, a Syrian aid worker who was taken in 2017. Tice, however, remains the Trump administration’s biggest prize. The FBI has offered a $1 million reward for information leading to his recovery and return; no such reward is listed for Kamalmaz.
The Tice case illuminates fascinating fractures within the uneasy alliance of neoconservative ideologues and old-fashioned Trumpist conservatives who make up the current U.S. administration. The imperative to free hostages held overseas is a recurrent theme of former national security adviser John Bolton’s recent memoir “The Room Where It Happened,”to Bolton and Pompeo’s growing concern. They worried about the legitimacy such deal-making affords their authoritarian adversaries — and the possible quid pro quo.
Pompeo and Bolton “didn’t like the idea” of Pompeo going to Pyongyang, Bolton writes about the 2018 hostage releases, “but freeing the hostages was sufficiently important that we decided to swallow it.” When Marine One arrived back on American soil, nearly overflying the illuminated Washington Monument on its way, Trump — who greeted Pompeo and the hostages — was on “cloud nine,” reports Bolton, “because this was a success even the hostile media could not diminish.”
Trump seems happy to talk to anyone who might help bring Americans home — regardless of the consequences.
The following year brought a fresh push on behalf of Americans in Syria. Trump, a natural demagogue who enjoys jaw-jawing and deal-making mano a mano with others of the same stripe, clearly wanted to strike a bargain with President Bashar al-Assad and his military regime, but was frustrated by Bolton and Pompeo in doing so. “Negotiations about our role in Syria were complicated by Trump’s constant desire to call Assad on US hostages, which Pompeo and I thought undesirable,” writes Bolton, who was ousted by Trump last September.
Debra Tice, the mother of detained journalist Austin Tice, speaks about her son’s detention at the National Press Club in Washington, on Jan. 27, 2020. Photo: Jacquelyn Martin/AP
Just this week, Tice’s mother Debra blamed Pompeo for getting in the way of U.S. efforts to secure her son’s release. “Secretary of State Mike Pompeo is undermining the President’s crucial outreach, refusing any form of direct diplomatic engagement with the Syrian government,” she said in a statement on Monday. Pompeo was happy to engage with the Syrians, but balked at using formal diplomatic channels. In the early days of the Trump administration, reported Adam Goldman in the New York Times, Pompeo spoke on the phone with Ali Mamlouk, then the powerful head of Syria’s National Security Bureau and a trusted adviser to Assad. The calls were the highest-level contact between the two governments for years. But whereas Pompeo preferred using a back channel, presumably to avoid giving the Syrian government the legitimacy it wants, Trump seems happy to talk to anyone who might help bring Americans home — regardless of the consequences.
Now, with Bolton gone and Trump in full-tilt election mode, Trump’s ambition to bring Tice home is being given free rein. Dozens of people, myself included, have been chipping away for years at the story of what happened to Tice. While many questions remain, what’s certain is that the prospects for his return are slim.
More than eight years after he disappeared, the fate of Austin Tice is more murky and politically pertinent than ever. On May 23, 2012, this intrepid 30-year-old former Marine Corps captain, fired by enthusiasm for the Arab Spring and burnishing an ambition to be a photojournalist, slipped under a fence into northern Syria.
Tice jumped from one ragtag rebel militia to another and managed bylines in no less than the Washington Post and McClatchy until he arrived in the suburbs of Damascus, where he promptly disappeared on August 13. Most Syria-watchers surmise that he fell into the hands of Syrian government forces.
In the years that followed, concerns about Tice became a cause célèbre among journalism and veteran organizations. Tice’s face appeared on billboards and ads: In 2015, Reporters Without Borders partnered with ad agency J. Walter Thompson on a public awareness campaign to put pressure on the U.S administration to bring Tice back home. The Obama administration, however, seemed to be dragging its heels. After the grisly execution of American journalists and aid workers by ISIS in 2014, and amid a general perception that little was done to get them out, new moves were made to help families deal with the plight of missing loved ones and help get them back, including the opening of an office of Special Presidential Envoy for Hostage Affairs. But nothing much changed.
A banner calling for the release of Austin Tice, the only American journalist held captive in Syria, is displayed at the Newseum in Washington, D.C. on Nov. 2, 2016. Photo: Andrew Caballero/AFP/Getty Images
The best evidence we have about Tice remains a 47-second video that popped onto the internet six weeks after he went missing. It shows Tice on a mountainside, blindfolded and being taunted by armed men. The production value and neatly laundered, Afghan-style clothes of the armed men seemed out of kilter, as if those who made it were engaged in a deliberate parody. Most reporters who watched it smelled a rat; since the Syrian government’s central propaganda claim was that it was battling Al Qaeda, its agents had every reason to show an American in jihadi captivity. At the time, I called one of the young rebels who’d worked to get Tice — and later myself — into the country a few months earlier. “Faked” was his verdict. “Now we know he is with the regime.”
Over the next years, in a long investigation for Vanity Fair and then for my book “Hunting Season,” I continued scraping away at the mystery of who was lying about Tice. Most reports assume that he was detained at a checkpoint near Darraya, the Damascus suburb where he last stayed, but that was never my information. From the 29-year-old IT graduate who’d acted as his translator in Darayya, and from a report prepared for the Tice family by rebels there, I learned that Tice had left with the same rebel driver who’d brought him there.
The more people I spoke to, the fuzzier the story became.
Much later, however, the rebels told me that they’d received information that the driver’s son had been kidnapped by the Syrian Mukhabarat, and that “the regime offered to release his son in exchange for Austin.” The more people I spoke to, the fuzzier the story became, but what was clear from their begrudging admission suggested that Tice hadn’t been kidnapped by the regime per se — he’d been traded by a few of the rebels he trusted, either for money or to get some of their own people back. Someone was continuing to take an interest in his case; a Syrian American friend of Tice’s sent him a Facebook message on August 12, 2012, and it was marked as read on October 29 the following year, according to a screenshot of the chat.
It was in the course of looking for Tice that I found another unfortunate young American languishing, incommunicado in a Damascus prison. Starting from the same Turkish border city of Antakya just months after Tice, Kevin Dawes had launched himself into Syria in October and had promptly been arrested by Syrian government forces. A few months after I published a story about him for GQ’s U.K. edition, he was released. One irony of the case is that Dawes had gone to Syria, in part, in an ill-advised effort to bring back information about Tice. He wasn’t the only one.
In 2016, according to Adam Goldman of the Times, “the American intelligence community concluded with moderate to high confidence in a secret analysis that Mr. Tice was alive, based partly on a report that he had been seen at a hospital in Damascus, being treated for dehydration.” But moderate-to-high confidence is not necessarily more than a rumor. One former Syrian official who was part of a high-level American initiative to bring Tice home and then worked closely with the Tice family told me that their team tried to chase down the Damascus hospital story but found nothing to support it. In any case, it sounded far-fetched, the former official said; alleged hospital sightings are common in such cases. After all their years of looking, they found no real proof that Tice was alive.
Marc and Debra Tice, give a press conference in Beirut on Dec. 4, 2018. Trump’s special envoy for hostage affairs, Robert O’Brien, said last month there was every reason to believe that the journalist was alive and still detained in Syria. Photo: Joseph Eid/AFP/Getty Images
In November 2018, O’Brien, then the U.S. Special Presidential Envoy for Hostage Affairs, said he had “every reason to believe” that Tice was still alive. Everyone else should remain skeptical. Tice’s parents appear to have seen no proof that he is alive, other than a combination of assurances and suggestions from the U.S. government. In his most recent televised statement on Tice, in March, Trump himself admitted that he has no evidence that the journalist remains alive.
It’s not only Trump, of course, who might see political advantage in resolving the whereabouts of Tice. On October 19, following the report in the Wall Street Journal, the pro-government Syrian paper Al-Watan reported that two high-ranking American officials visited the Syrian capital in an effort to “win Damascus’s cooperation with Washington” in the case of Americans missing in Syria, chief among them Tice. At issue on the Syrian side were punishing U.S. sanctions on the Syrian government imposed earlier this year, and the continued presence of American soldiers in the northeast of the country.
But it wasn’t clear that the Syrians had anything to offer in return. “Information suggests that his [Tice’s] disappearance was due to the struggle of extremist groups that had recently emerged in Eastern Ghouta,” the article continued. Every word of it, noted a former contractor for the Syrian government who is still inside the country, must have been approved by the presidential palace. “They are setting the ground to say that he is dead and we recovered the body.”
Debra Tice repeated in her statement on Monday Trump’s previous claim that we “will not rest until we bring Austin home.” For the sake of Tice’s family, let’s hope the American president is not promising more than he can deliver.


theintercept--2020-11-01--Private Security Firms Ramp Up for Potential Election Unrest in Minneapolis

Less than two weeks before this year ’ s presidential election , Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison attempted to assuage voters ’ fears of an intimidation campaign at the polls .
Outcry had erupted after the Tennessee-based private security company Atlas Aegis posted an ad seeking to recruit former special operations service members to “ protect election polls , local businesses and residences from looting and destruction ” for the remarkably high rate of $ 910 per day .
Asked about it by a Washington Post reporter , Atlas Aegis head Anthony Caudle said personnel would be “ there to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t try to destroy the election sites.
” Since it ’ s illegal for private security to be stationed within 100 feet of polling stations unless appointed as “ sergeant at arms ” by election officials , Ellison acted fast , launching an investigation into the company .
By October 23 , the attorney general ’ s office was assuring Minnesotans that no Atlas Aegis security workers would be guarding polling sites against “ antifas ” on Election Day , based on written assurances the company submitted in response to the investigation .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ As Ellison began his probe , the League of Women Voters Minnesota and the Minnesota Council on American-Islamic Relations filed their own lawsuit against Atlas Aegis .
They succeeded in winning a federal court injunction preventing agents of Atlas Aegis or its owner from getting within 2,500 feet of any Minnesota polling place .
But the win was partial : The assurances Atlas Aegis submitted to the attorney general stated that its recruitment efforts originated with a Minnesota security firm , and the voting rights groups want to know which firm it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Atlas Aegis , had reached out to firms outside of the state to recruit personnel to protect property — not polling sites — in the event of election-related unrest .
Two additional companies , 10-Code Security and 5326 Consultants , had alerted Atlas Aegis to the “ opportunity , ” according to the agreement between Ellison ’ s office and Atlas Aegis .
Pressed by the court to provide the identities of the main contractor as well as its businesses clients — initially referred to as John Does in court — Atlas Aegis @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s officials simply “ do not know the identity ” of any of them .
“ The only parties who might be a John Doe are 10 Code LLC , 5326 Consultants and Rozin Security , ” according Atlas Aegis ’ s response to a discovery request in court .
The evasive response is typical of a lightly regulated industry where rosters of military-trained personnel are commodities to be bought and sold — and where routine use of subcontractors complicates efforts at accountability .
It ’ s a matter of renewed importance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is widespread and Minneapolis residents are rethinking what community security should look like .
After widespread property damage amid protests in the wake of George Floyd ’ s killing and a reported uptick in crime , businesses in the Twin Cities are increasingly turning to the private sector for safety .
As utopian visions shifting the police ’ s role in society percolate , the private security industry is booming .
A review by The Intercept of WhatsApp chat logs and internal private security company documents , as well as interviews with private @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Aegis is not the only private security firm that saw “ opportunity ” in the threat of Election Day or post-election unrest .
Armed special operations veterans hired by security firms will certainly be on the streets in greater numbers this week , even if they are not at the polls themselves .
Two of the possible John Does , Rozin Security and 10-Code , will be working together to deploy a force of 30 people to protect businesses , according to an interview with Rozin Security CEO Kathryn Rozin .
( 10-Code @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s been an increased demand nationwide for private security services due to the public ’ s perception of authorities , whether it ’ s the police department or the National Guard , ” said Rozin .
“ I would argue that these places of business , whether it ’ s a grocery store or a bigger retailer like Target or even a condo building , have an obligation to make their employees feel safe and for the public to feel safe utilizing these services.
” ( Rozin declined to share information about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she chose Target as an example because they are so well-known .
A Target spokesperson told The Intercept that the company has hired neither Rozin Security nor 10-Code to provide security around the election period . )
Rozin Security has said it played a role defending Minneapolis businesses and working with the government during unrest this summer .
According to a local ABC affiliate , the company ’ s “ team of former special operations forces members helped track the violence and also were involved in protecting key sites on the streets.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Kathryn ’ s husband and the president and co-founder of the company .
“ The anarchists , the extremist groups , were operating in an organized fashion , ” said Michael Rozin , who is a veteran of the Israeli Defense Forces .
“ They were operating in what almost appears to be an asymmetric warfare manner.
” On Election Day , Rozin ’ s personnel will not be at polling sites , the CEO added , and her company has never worked with Atlas Aegis .
Rozin sees no problem with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you think is better suited for the job ?
Somebody with no training ?
A mall cop ?
” she asked .
“ I fully understand that it ’ s Election Day but it really has nothing to do with the election .
It really has to do with safety and security for our communities.
” Some voting rights advocates , however , take a different view .
“ The idea that people may be out there recruiting personnel trained for the field of war to be in vigilante fashion patrolling our own @ @ @ @ @ @ @ U.S. is very alarming , ” said Ben Clements , lead counsel for the voting rights groups and chair and senior legal adviser to the organization Free Speech for the People .
Short of full disclosure of the companies on behalf of which Atlas Aegis was recruiting , his team has argued , Minnesotans may lack access to free and fair elections on Tuesday .
In mid-September , Nick Rabenau , who says he is a former Army Green Beret , left a position as vice president with the security firm the North @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sent a WhatsApp text to contacts in his network .
The thread was titled “ Pipe Hitters Club , ” a term used to refer to combat veterans .
“ I want to extend an opportunity to you .
We will be staffing a very large security detail within the Minneapolis area over the course of the election , ” he said .
“ This is all based on client requests and the violence that sparks from the election results.
” A document was distributed describing the “ mission objective ” : “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of any looters , rioters , or other threat actors , to private residences , commercial real estate buildings , grocery stores , car dealerships , and other locations.
” Operators would be paid $ 800 per day plus $ 210 daily for expenses .
They were asked to bring a “ full kit , ” including a tactical vest , side arm , and long rifle .
The assignment was expected to run from November 2 to November 9 .
Rabenau was recruiting on behalf of Rozin , he explained on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Minnesota and markets itself as a consultant , so , as Kathryn Rozin confirmed , on-the-ground work would be subcontracted to the licensed private security firm 10-Code LLC .
( She said the company later made Rabenau change the name of the Whatsapp group , “ Pipe Hitters Club , ” for fear that it was unseemly . )
Though neither Rabeneau nor 10-Code commented , The Intercept obtained a packet of information branded with Rozin ’ s and 10-Code ’ s logos , titled “ Armed Security Detail – November Election @ @ @ @ @ @ @ operators that would be working in Minneapolis and St. Paul .
The private security triumvirate that was taking shape in Minneapolis — Rozin , Rabenau , and 10-Code — all have controversial histories in the security business .
As manager of a specialized security force at Minnesota ’ s Mall of America , Michael Rozin used a technique of interview-based behavior profiling similar to what ’ s used at Israel ’ s Ben Gurion International Airport outside Tel Aviv , where he used to work , according to news reports and an interview @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Intercept that the firm uses behavior “ detection , ” rather than “ pofiling , ” adding : “ There ’ s an important difference which is based in science , we do not profile , in fact if one profiles they could miss the possible threat actor.
” ) The Center for Investigative Reporting and NPR investigated the impacts of the approach at the mall in 2011 , finding that shoppers were being intensively questioned by mall security guards and that mall officials had filed a number of suspicious activity reports @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , based on noncriminal behaviors .
Two-thirds of the reports journalists reviewed described people of color or “ other minorities.
” Rozin Security uses a similar approach in its proprietary trainings on its Suspicion Indicators Recognition and Assessment system .
( Kathryn Rozin said the NPR article was “ severely flawed , biased and refutable , ” without describing what was inaccurate . )
Meanwhile , 10-Code specializes in oil-industry security and previously helped guard the protest-plagued Dakota Access Pipeline construction site near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation .
Company personnel were present @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when another security company sicced dogs on pipeline opponents , according to public records obtained by reporter Will Parrish .
Since then , 10-Code ’ s president , Steve Lundin , lobbied successfully for a “ critical infrastructure protection ” bill in Oklahoma and unsuccessfully for one in Wyoming .
The bills were aimed at increasing penalties for pipeline opponents protesting near fossil fuel infrastructure .
( Similar bills have been repeatedly introduced , but never passed , in the Minnesota legislature , though no evidence has emerged that Lundin was involved in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ part , Rabenau , the recruiter , got in trouble in Illinois for running a concealed carry training program without being certified as an instructor .
The state of Illinois alleged that he had illegally doled out at least three forged training certificates required for gun owners to conceal and carry their weapons , according to news reports .
In a settlement signed in 2017 , Rabenau pleaded guilty to misdemeanor attempted theft .
Kathryn Rozin said Rabenau had passed extensive background checks by the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension and the FBI @ @ @ @ @ @ @ aware of his record and did not believe any of his actions disqualified him from the work .
Rabenau did not respond to requests for comment .
“ This is all aboveboard , ” Rozin said , adding that the company works “ hand in hand ” with the Hennepin County Sheriff ’ s Office and other local law enforcement agencies and had even communicated Atlas Aegis ’ s actions to the FBI .
In a statement , Rozin said , “ RSC contacted the FBI on October 1 , 9 , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to report what appeared to be an effort to suppress the vote.
” It ’ s unknown whether Rabenau ’ s recruitment effort was linked to Atlas Aegis .
A special operations veteran who requested to remain anonymous for fear of repercussions to his employability told The Intercept that Atlas Aegis had sent him a similar pitch before the court order .
Other companies had also reached out to the veteran offering work around the election period .
Another special operations veteran in the area , who also asked for anonymity for fear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Intercept that he ’ d received a text from a friend who also works in the industry .
“ If you are here during the elections you want to make $ 1000 a day to do security with me ?
” the text read .
“ We are going under the radar , no kit or weapons out just stay inside.
” The veteran declined to name the company that was recruiting and said he did not take the job .
5326 Consultants , the third company that Atlas Aegis said “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ firm in response to court-ordered discovery , said the company will not be conducting any security before or after the election in Minnesota .
Chief operating officer Stacey Blau , a former CIA official , however , said that 5326 had considered doing security work — not for polling places but for businesses .
“ We did inform Atlas Aegis about this opportunity in September .
We had an exploratory conversation with them , kind of like an interview , ” she said in an email .
“ But we never actually worked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ extremely irresponsible public comments a few weeks [ sic ] about providing so-called security for polling places and official election activities , we never would want to work with them.
” In Minnesota , though , security firms ’ interest in opportunities extends beyond just election-related work .
“ Since the George Floyd riots there has been a increase want for spec ops vets , ” the first former military member said over text .
“ the work that is offered has always been vague , there is always a price they offer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ day to work in a armed security role.
” The chair of the Minnesota Board of Private Detective and Protective Agent Services , Rick Hodsdon , said the board has fielded a number of reports of unlicensed private security activity since George Floyd ’ s killing .
The complaints are difficult to follow up on , he said , since the licensing board is under-resourced , with only three staff members overseeing an industry employing 14,000 people in the state .
The first special operations veteran told The Intercept that he ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he encountered in advance of the election could result in armed security companies working on the ground that have not been properly vetted .
He said the biggest risk is for “ our general population to be subjected to half ass security provided by low life ’ s who are just trying to make money on people ’ s individual fear of our current situation.
” Updated : November 1 , 2020 , 1:57 p.m .
This story has been updated to include a comment from Kathryn Rozin made after publication indicating that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is based on “ profiling .
”

Less than two weeks before this year’s presidential election, Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison attempted to assuage voters’ fears of an intimidation campaign at the polls. Outcry had erupted after the Tennessee-based private security company Atlas Aegis posted an ad seeking to recruit former special operations service members to “protect election polls, local businesses and residences from looting and destruction” for the remarkably high rate of $910 per day. Asked about it by a Washington Post reporter, Atlas Aegis head Anthony Caudle said personnel would be “there to make sure that the antifas don’t try to destroy the election sites.”
Since it’s illegal for private security to be stationed within 100 feet of polling stations unless appointed as “sergeant at arms” by election officials, Ellison acted fast, launching an investigation into the company. By October 23, the attorney general’s office was assuring Minnesotans that no Atlas Aegis security workers would be guarding polling sites against “antifas” on Election Day, based on written assurances the company submitted in response to the investigation.
Voting rights groups still have concerns. As Ellison began his probe, the League of Women Voters Minnesota and the Minnesota Council on American-Islamic Relations filed their own lawsuit against Atlas Aegis. They succeeded in winning a federal court injunction preventing agents of Atlas Aegis or its owner from getting within 2,500 feet of any Minnesota polling place. But the win was partial: The assurances Atlas Aegis submitted to the attorney general stated that its recruitment efforts originated with a Minnesota security firm, and the voting rights groups want to know which firm it was.
The Minnesota company, according to Atlas Aegis, had reached out to firms outside of the state to recruit personnel to protect property — not polling sites — in the event of election-related unrest. Two additional companies, 10-Code Security and 5326 Consultants, had alerted Atlas Aegis to the “opportunity,” according to the agreement between Ellison’s office and Atlas Aegis. Pressed by the court to provide the identities of the main contractor as well as its businesses clients — initially referred to as John Does in court — Atlas Aegis supplied a murky answer: The firm’s officials simply “do not know the identity” of any of them. “The only parties who might be a John Doe are 10 Code LLC, 5326 Consultants and Rozin Security,” according Atlas Aegis’s response to a discovery request in court.
The evasive response is typical of a lightly regulated industry where rosters of military-trained personnel are commodities to be bought and sold — and where routine use of subcontractors complicates efforts at accountability. It’s a matter of renewed importance in a moment when distrust of police is widespread and Minneapolis residents are rethinking what community security should look like. After widespread property damage amid protests in the wake of George Floyd’s killing and a reported uptick in crime, businesses in the Twin Cities are increasingly turning to the private sector for safety. As utopian visions shifting the police’s role in society percolate, the private security industry is booming.
Firms Justify Presence
A review by The Intercept of WhatsApp chat logs and internal private security company documents, as well as interviews with private security company operators, shows that Atlas Aegis is not the only private security firm that saw “opportunity” in the threat of Election Day or post-election unrest. Armed special operations veterans hired by security firms will certainly be on the streets in greater numbers this week, even if they are not at the polls themselves.
Two of the possible John Does, Rozin Security and 10-Code, will be working together to deploy a force of 30 people to protect businesses, according to an interview with Rozin Security CEO Kathryn Rozin. (10-Code declined to comment.) “There’s been an increased demand nationwide for private security services due to the public’s perception of authorities, whether it’s the police department or the National Guard,” said Rozin. “I would argue that these places of business, whether it’s a grocery store or a bigger retailer like Target or even a condo building, have an obligation to make their employees feel safe and for the public to feel safe utilizing these services.” (Rozin declined to share information about her company’s clients and said she chose Target as an example because they are so well-known. A Target spokesperson told The Intercept that the company has hired neither Rozin Security nor 10-Code to provide security around the election period.)
Rozin Security has said it played a role defending Minneapolis businesses and working with the government during unrest this summer. According to a local ABC affiliate, the company’s “team of former special operations forces members helped track the violence and also were involved in protecting key sites on the streets.” The television station spoke to Michael Rozin, Kathryn’s husband and the president and co-founder of the company. “The anarchists, the extremist groups, were operating in an organized fashion,” said Michael Rozin, who is a veteran of the Israeli Defense Forces. “They were operating in what almost appears to be an asymmetric warfare manner.”
“The idea that people may be out there recruiting personnel trained for the field of war to be in vigilante fashion patrolling our own civilians in our own streets in the U.S. is very alarming.”
On Election Day, Rozin’s personnel will not be at polling sites, the CEO added, and her company has never worked with Atlas Aegis. Rozin sees no problem with deploying military-trained guards. “Who do you think is better suited for the job? Somebody with no training? A mall cop?” she asked. “I fully understand that it’s Election Day but it really has nothing to do with the election. It really has to do with safety and security for our communities.”
Some voting rights advocates, however, take a different view. “The idea that people may be out there recruiting personnel trained for the field of war to be in vigilante fashion patrolling our own civilians in our own streets in the U.S. is very alarming,” said Ben Clements, lead counsel for the voting rights groups and chair and senior legal adviser to the organization Free Speech for the People. Short of full disclosure of the companies on behalf of which Atlas Aegis was recruiting, his team has argued, Minnesotans may lack access to free and fair elections on Tuesday.
The Recruiters
In mid-September, Nick Rabenau, who says he is a former Army Green Beret, left a position as vice president with the security firm the North Group. A day later, Rabenau sent a WhatsApp text to contacts in his network. The thread was titled “Pipe Hitters Club,” a term used to refer to combat veterans. “I want to extend an opportunity to you. We will be staffing a very large security detail within the Minneapolis area over the course of the election,” he said. “This is all based on client requests and the violence that sparks from the election results.”
A document was distributed describing the “mission objective”: “To provide protective services, and deterrence of any looters, rioters, or other threat actors, to private residences, commercial real estate buildings, grocery stores, car dealerships, and other locations.” Operators would be paid $800 per day plus $210 daily for expenses. They were asked to bring a “full kit,” including a tactical vest, side arm, and long rifle. The assignment was expected to run from November 2 to November 9.
Rabenau was recruiting on behalf of Rozin, he explained on the chats. Rozin lacked a security license in Minnesota and markets itself as a consultant, so, as Kathryn Rozin confirmed, on-the-ground work would be subcontracted to the licensed private security firm 10-Code LLC. (She said the company later made Rabenau change the name of the Whatsapp group, “Pipe Hitters Club,” for fear that it was unseemly.) Though neither Rabeneau nor 10-Code commented, The Intercept obtained a packet of information branded with Rozin’s and 10-Code’s logos, titled “Armed Security Detail – November Election Support” and containing information for out-of-state operators that would be working in Minneapolis and St. Paul.
The private security triumvirate that was taking shape in Minneapolis — Rozin, Rabenau, and 10-Code — all have controversial histories in the security business.
As manager of a specialized security force at Minnesota’s Mall of America, Michael Rozin used a technique of interview-based behavior profiling similar to what’s used at Israel’s Ben Gurion International Airport outside Tel Aviv, where he used to work, according to news reports and an interview with Kathryn Rozin. (Rozin told The Intercept that the firm uses behavior “detection,” rather than “profiling,” adding: “There’s an important difference which is based in science, we do not profile, in fact if one profiles they could miss the possible threat actor.”)
The Center for Investigative Reporting and NPR investigated the impacts of the approach at the mall in 2011, finding that shoppers were being intensively questioned by mall security guards and that mall officials had filed a number of suspicious activity reports to a local law enforcement fusion center, based on noncriminal behaviors. Two-thirds of the reports journalists reviewed described people of color or “other minorities.” Rozin Security uses a similar approach in its proprietary trainings on its Suspicion Indicators Recognition and Assessment system. (Kathryn Rozin said the NPR article was “severely flawed, biased and refutable,” without describing what was inaccurate.)
Meanwhile, 10-Code specializes in oil-industry security and previously helped guard the protest-plagued Dakota Access Pipeline construction site near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation. Company personnel were present on the infamous day in September 2016 when another security company sicced dogs on pipeline opponents, according to public records obtained by reporter Will Parrish. Since then, 10-Code’s president, Steve Lundin, lobbied successfully for a “critical infrastructure protection” bill in Oklahoma and unsuccessfully for one in Wyoming. The bills were aimed at increasing penalties for pipeline opponents protesting near fossil fuel infrastructure. (Similar bills have been repeatedly introduced, but never passed, in the Minnesota legislature, though no evidence has emerged that Lundin was involved in lobbying for them.)
For his part, Rabenau, the recruiter, got in trouble in Illinois for running a concealed carry training program without being certified as an instructor. The state of Illinois alleged that he had illegally doled out at least three forged training certificates required for gun owners to conceal and carry their weapons, according to news reports. In a settlement signed in 2017, Rabenau pleaded guilty to misdemeanor attempted theft.
Kathryn Rozin said Rabenau had passed extensive background checks by the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension and the FBI. She added that her company was aware of his record and did not believe any of his actions disqualified him from the work. Rabenau did not respond to requests for comment.
“This is all aboveboard,” Rozin said, adding that the company works “hand in hand” with the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Office and other local law enforcement agencies and had even communicated Atlas Aegis’s actions to the FBI. In a statement, Rozin said, “RSC contacted the FBI on October 1, 9, and 15 2020 regarding the Atlas Aegis solicitation to report what appeared to be an effort to suppress the vote.”
Crisis Opportunists
It’s unknown whether Rabenau’s recruitment effort was linked to Atlas Aegis. A special operations veteran who requested to remain anonymous for fear of repercussions to his employability told The Intercept that Atlas Aegis had sent him a similar pitch before the court order. Other companies had also reached out to the veteran offering work around the election period.
Another special operations veteran in the area, who also asked for anonymity for fear of repercussions to his employability, told The Intercept that he’d received a text from a friend who also works in the industry. “If you are here during the elections you want to make $1000 a day to do security with me?” the text read. “We are going under the radar, no kit or weapons out just stay inside.” The veteran declined to name the company that was recruiting and said he did not take the job.
“We did inform Atlas Aegis about this opportunity in September. But we never actually worked with them.”
5326 Consultants, the third company that Atlas Aegis said “might be” a John Doe security firm in response to court-ordered discovery, said the company will not be conducting any security before or after the election in Minnesota. Chief operating officer Stacey Blau, a former CIA official, however, said that 5326 had considered doing security work — not for polling places but for businesses. “We did inform Atlas Aegis about this opportunity in September. We had an exploratory conversation with them, kind of like an interview,” she said in an email. “But we never actually worked with them. And, given their extremely irresponsible public comments a few weeks [sic] about providing so-called security for polling places and official election activities, we never would want to work with them.”
In Minnesota, though, security firms’ interest in opportunities extends beyond just election-related work. “Since the George Floyd riots there has been a increase want for spec ops vets,” the first former military member said over text. “the work that is offered has always been vague, there is always a price they offer ranging from $750-$1500 a day to work in a armed security role.”
The chair of the Minnesota Board of Private Detective and Protective Agent Services, Rick Hodsdon, said the board has fielded a number of reports of unlicensed private security activity since George Floyd’s killing. The complaints are difficult to follow up on, he said, since the licensing board is under-resourced, with only three staff members overseeing an industry employing 14,000 people in the state.
The first special operations veteran told The Intercept that he’s concerned that the sprawling network of recruiters he encountered in advance of the election could result in armed security companies working on the ground that have not been properly vetted. He said the biggest risk is for “our general population to be subjected to half ass security provided by low life’s who are just trying to make money on people’s individual fear of our current situation.”
Updated: November 1, 2020, 1:57 p.m.
This story has been updated to include a comment from Kathryn Rozin made after publication indicating that the firm disputes its mall security work is based on “profiling.”


theintercept--2020-11-01--Bob Good Pushed to Seize Virginia Residents’ Property Over Medical Debt

The Republican congressional candidate for Virginia ’ s 5th District shocked the political establishment by seizing the nomination from first-term Rep. Denver Riggleman , R-Va. , by challenging him at the party convention in June .
Bob Good , the moralizing born-again crusader who upended Virginia politics earlier this year over his belief that the state should not grant marriage rights to same-sex couples , also believes the state should be able to seize the homes and wages of local patients over unpaid medical debt .
Good , a former senior associate athletic director at Liberty University , drew attention @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a same-sex wedding and his mainstream views around LGBTQ rights .
The primary upset has cast widespread attention on Good ’ s outspoken views on opposing gay and transgender civil rights .
But the Republican candidate ’ s economic positions have received far less scrutiny in the general election , in which he is in a close race with Democrat Cameron Webb , a local doctor and public health official who was a White House fellow in both the Obama and Trump administrations .
Since 2016 , Good has served as a supervisor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Altavista that overlaps with the 5th District .
In that role , Good has supported a dramatic increase in costs for county ambulance services and pushed to aggressively collect on outstanding emergency medical services debt owed to the county .
Shortly after he was elected , Good voted to raise ambulance fees by 26 percent , a rate that has made emergency medical services among the most expensive in the Lynchburg area .
He supported extending a contract to McKesson , a health care company , under terms that allow the firm to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ collects by operating EMS services in the region .
In subsequent county meetings , Good pressed for the county to raise funds through expanded collection services over medical fees owed to the government .
“ I ’ d be in favor of going for it all the way , ” said Good during one of the meetings on the EMS debt issue in 2016 .
“ When you ’ re talking garnish bank accounts , as well as jobs , interrogatories , judgment , lien on property , seize , you know , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ noted that he would be in favor of placing a lien against a patient ’ s real estate , if they owned any , as well as a lien against a patient ’ s state taxes , ” noted the minutes from another Campbell County supervisor meeting in 2018 .
The county lawyer said she would check on the legality of Good ’ s proposal .
The following week , the board advanced a proposal on garnishing wages and seizing the property of residents that owed certain levels of emergency medical debt .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ have saddled local residents with a high level of debt .
In 2018 , The News & Advance , a local newspaper , detailed the struggles of Hazel Mason , then 92 years old , who faced coercive debt collection tactics over a $ 599.66 bill for an ambulance ride to Lynchburg General Hospital .
Mason ’ s family was shocked that Medicare would not cover the entire bill and balked at Campbell County ’ s push to collect from her mother , who suffers from Alzheimer ’ s .
The family claimed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the county before county officials threatened Mason with a letter claiming that they would use “ all legal options available ” to collect from her .
Good ’ s campaign did not respond to requests for comment .
The candidate ’ s website has little to say about any economic policy positions beyond single-sentence statements opposing taxation and government spending .
In response to a conservative questionnaire distributed earlier this year , Good revealed that he supports cutting Social Security benefits and raising the retirement age .
Webb , the Democratic candidate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Good to divest from McKesson Corp. , the health care giant that manages the EMS contract , which is also under fire for over supplying addictive opioids to regional pharmacies .
Good has also faced recent criticism over a late ethics disclosure showing a vast range of other investments .
His initial disclosure , as required by law , showed that he owned no stock holdings or other financial assets .
His amended form shows up to $ 1.65 million in financial holdings .
The Intercept filed a records request with Campbell County @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in stipends and mileage reimbursements over the four years he served as supervisor .
The race , in a district in rural , central Virginia , a traditional stronghold for Republicans , is rated as a toss-up by election observers .
Webb has out-raised Good , according to recent campaign disclosures , but the Virginia Republican has received a surge of late campaign contributions from corporate political action committees , including donations from Koch Industries , AT & T , and Alliance Coal .

Bob Good, the moralizing born-again crusader who upended Virginia politics earlier this year over his belief that the state should not grant marriage rights to same-sex couples, also believes the state should be able to seize the homes and wages of local patients over unpaid medical debt.
The Republican congressional candidate for Virginia’s 5th District shocked the political establishment by seizing the nomination from first-term Rep. Denver Riggleman, R-Va., by challenging him at the party convention in June.
Good, a former senior associate athletic director at Liberty University, drew attention to Riggleman’s decision to officiate a same-sex wedding and his mainstream views around LGBTQ rights. The primary upset has cast widespread attention on Good’s outspoken views on opposing gay and transgender civil rights.
But the Republican candidate’s economic positions have received far less scrutiny in the general election, in which he is in a close race with Democrat Cameron Webb, a local doctor and public health official who was a White House fellow in both the Obama and Trump administrations.
Since 2016, Good has served as a supervisor for Campbell County, an area around Altavista that overlaps with the 5th District. In that role, Good has supported a dramatic increase in costs for county ambulance services and pushed to aggressively collect on outstanding emergency medical services debt owed to the county.
Shortly after he was elected, Good voted to raise ambulance fees by 26 percent, a rate that has made emergency medical services among the most expensive in the Lynchburg area. He supported extending a contract to McKesson, a health care company, under terms that allow the firm to retain 4.25 percent of the fees it collects by operating EMS services in the region.
In subsequent county meetings, Good pressed for the county to raise funds through expanded collection services over medical fees owed to the government.
“I’d be in favor of going for it all the way,” said Good during one of the meetings on the EMS debt issue in 2016. “When you’re talking garnish bank accounts, as well as jobs, interrogatories, judgment, lien on property, seize, you know, on real estate.”
“Supervisor Good noted that he would be in favor of placing a lien against a patient’s real estate, if they owned any, as well as a lien against a patient’s state taxes,” noted the minutes from another Campbell County supervisor meeting in 2018. The county lawyer said she would check on the legality of Good’s proposal. The following week, the board advanced a proposal on garnishing wages and seizing the property of residents that owed certain levels of emergency medical debt.
The unusually high rates for EMS services have saddled local residents with a high level of debt.
In 2018, The News & Advance, a local newspaper, detailed the struggles of Hazel Mason, then 92 years old, who faced coercive debt collection tactics over a $599.66 bill for an ambulance ride to Lynchburg General Hospital. Mason’s family was shocked that Medicare would not cover the entire bill and balked at Campbell County’s push to collect from her mother, who suffers from Alzheimer’s. The family claimed that they never received initial billing requests from the county before county officials threatened Mason with a letter claiming that they would use “all legal options available” to collect from her.
Good’s campaign did not respond to requests for comment.
The candidate’s website has little to say about any economic policy positions beyond single-sentence statements opposing taxation and government spending. In response to a conservative questionnaire distributed earlier this year, Good revealed that he supports cutting Social Security benefits and raising the retirement age.
Webb, the Democratic candidate in the race, has called for Good to divest from McKesson Corp., the health care giant that manages the EMS contract, which is also under fire for over supplying addictive opioids to regional pharmacies.
Good has also faced recent criticism over a late ethics disclosure showing a vast range of other investments. His initial disclosure, as required by law, showed that he owned no stock holdings or other financial assets. His amended form shows up to $1.65 million in financial holdings. The Intercept filed a records request with Campbell County showing that Good also received $30,320 in stipends and mileage reimbursements over the four years he served as supervisor.
The race, in a district in rural, central Virginia, a traditional stronghold for Republicans, is rated as a toss-up by election observers. Webb has outraised Good, according to recent campaign disclosures, but the Virginia Republican has received a surge of late campaign contributions from corporate political action committees, including donations from Koch Industries, AT&T, and Alliance Coal.