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Julie Rovner photo
Julie Rovner ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ Read Julie's stories. Julie Rovner is chief Washington correspondent and host of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ weekly health policy news podcast, "What the Health?" A noted expert on health policy issues, Julie is the author of the critically praised reference book "Health Care Politics and Policy A to Z," now in its third edition.

Summer may be approaching its end, but the health policy stories that have marked the season continue. In Washington and across the country, public health officials are still struggling with outbreaks of vaccine-preventable diseases such as measles, while states and health systems are preparing for the impact of major federal funding cuts to their Medicaid programs.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Shefali Luthra of The 19th, Rachel Roubein of The Washington Post, and Margot Sanger-Katz of The New York Times.

Panelists

Shefali Luthra photo
Shefali Luthra The 19th
Rachel Roubein photo
Rachel Roubein The Washington Post
Margot Sanger-Katz photo
Margot Sanger-Katz The New York Times

Among the takeaways from this week’s episode:

  • More Americans are struggling to afford health coverage, even before some of the biggest GOP-initiated changes to Medicaid and Affordable Care Act plans take effect next year. And the federal government’s efforts to block coverage of drugs used in gender-affirming care and to claw back ACA subsidies are creating access issues for a wider pool of Americans.
  • Pennsylvania health officials this week reported two measles-related deaths amid an ongoing outbreak and the national debate over vaccines. While many of the actions taken by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services under Robert F. Kennedy Jr. remain held up in litigation, President Donald Trump has made his personal skepticism about vaccines known, including through his recent executive order. Meanwhile, the administration is scaling back enforcement of civil rights protections for people with autism.
  • The Trump administration is inviting states to participate in price negotiations with manufacturers over GLP-1 drugs if the states opt to offer the drugs through their Medicaid programs. But, amid concerns over cost, only one state has taken the federal government up on its offer.
  • And farewell to Dolly Parton, the superstar country music singer and songwriter, also known for her philanthropic work, who died this week at age 80. In addition to her donation in 2020 supporting the development of the mRNA-based covid vaccine, Parton funded pediatric infectious disease research, a women’s health center in the Tennessee county where she was raised, and training for pediatric medical professionals.

Also this week, Rovner interviews Dean Rosen about his work for former Sen. Nancy Landon Kassebaum, a Kansas Republican and the first woman to lead a major Senate committee, who died last week at age 94.

Plus, for “extra credit” the panelists suggest health policy stories they read this week that they think you should read, too: 

Julie Rovner: The Washington Post’s “,” by Tamar Haspel.  

Margot Sanger-Katz: Stat’s “,” by Anil Oza.  

Rachel Roubein: The New York Times’ “,” by Noah Daly and Andrew Jacobs.  

Shefali Luthra: The Washington Post and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ “,” by LJ Dawson.

Also mentioned in this week’s podcast:

  • Stat’s “,” by Daniel Payne.
  • Modern Healthcare’s “,” by Nona Tepper.
  • Stat’s “,” by John Wilkerson.
  • The Washington Post’s “,” by Naema Ahmed, Lena H. Sun and Aaron Steckelberg.
  • CIDRAP’s “,” by Meghan Holohan.
  • Stat’s “,” by Elizabeth Cooney.
  • Politico’s “,” by Kelly Hooper.
  • ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ “Trump Puts Autistic Kids in the Spotlight and Cuts Agencies Built To Protect Them,” by Claire Sibonney.
Click to open the transcript Transcript: Summer’s Health Policy Themes

[Editor’s note: This transcript was generated using transcription software. It has been edited for style and clarity.] 

Julie Rovner: Hello, from ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and WAMU Public Radio in Washington, D.C. Welcome to What the Health? I’m Julie Rovner, chief Washington correspondent for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. And, as always, I’m joined by some of the best and smartest health reporters covering Washington. We’re taping this week on Thursday, Aug. 27, at 10:30 a.m. As always, news happens fast, and things might have changed by the time you hear this. So here we go.  

Today we are joined via video conference by Margot Sanger-Katz of The New York Times. 

Margot Sanger-Katz: Hello, everybody. 

Rovner: Shefali Luthra of The 19th. 

Shefali Luthra: Hello! 

Rovner: And Rachel Roubein of The Washington Post. 

Rachel Roubein: Hi. 

Rovner: Later in this episode, we’ll have my interview with Dean Rosen about his time working for Kansas Republican Sen. Nancy Landon Kassebaum, who died last week at the age of 94, and how she represented a type of lawmaker we don’t see that much anymore. But first, this week’s news. So we’re taking the next week off for a needed break for our entire team, which makes this the last podcast of the technical summer. And I thought I’d do something just a little bit different. I’m going to break the discussion up into what I’m calling “The Themes of the Summer” — things we’ve talked about nearly every week. I hope it gives some of you the realization that I get from putting this together every week, that we’re looking less at a long list of separate events and items and more at pieces of a much larger picture that we don’t often see. 

So, theme No. 1 this week is declining health coverage. When Republicans passed their big budget bill last summer, they thought they were being clever by backdating most of the Medicaid cuts so they wouldn’t happen before the 2026 midterms. Well, the problem for them is that states and health systems are already making their own cuts in anticipation of those federal cuts to come, and people are already starting to feel them. This week’s evidence is from a Stat News piece called “,” and it includes ways that access is shrinking overall, particularly in heavily rural states like Maine and Louisiana, as the number of people without insurance goes up and the money from the government goes down. Is it really possible that Republicans didn’t see this coming? Or did they really believe they could take a trillion dollars out of the nation’s healthcare system and not have people notice? 

Sanger-Katz: I think that many of them were not paying very close attention. I think it may be accurate to say that they were indifferent to this possibility and are, in fact, surprised now to see the way that it is working out. I just, you know, for context, this bill that made these very large cuts to Medicaid and some smaller cuts to Obamacare funding was part of this huge package that included, you know, major tax cuts and tax reforms that were a big priority for Republicans, changes to energy policy, changes to other social welfare programs, changes to education policy, and, you know, they called it the One Big Beautiful Bill. And I think the bigness of it is easy to forget, in retrospect. But I think for a lot of lawmakers, they were really focused on the parts of the bill that they really cared about. For many of them, it was the tax part of the package. And the president and their leadership repeatedly told them not to worry about the Medicaid changes, characterized them as not being cuts. And I think, you know, a good, responsible lawmaker ought to do some diligence about that. But I think that many of them maybe took their eye off of the healthcare parts of the bill, were focused more on these other parts of the bill, and now are really starting to see what is happening in their home states as these policies are starting to roll out. 

Roubein: And I also think it’s true that, like, some of the full impacts, as I think Daniel Payne pointed out in his Stat piece, won’t be felt for years to come, particularly as the Medicaid work requirements do kick in next year. So once there are more concrete human faces and examples, that tends to come to more the forefront and, like, you know, the political mind. So yes, those changes a lot of them are not fully going into effect till after the midterms. 

Rovner: I do think that one thing that lawmakers really didn’t appreciate was how much this might impact not just people who would be losing coverage, but people who would be losing access. I mean, people who still have coverage, but, you know, if a hospital can’t keep its door open, or a clinic can’t keep its door open, or a doctor can’t, you know, keep the practice going, that’s going to impact people with insurance as well as people who are losing their insurance. I mean, that’s, I think, that’s part of why this piece went to explore some of these more rural places, where people are going to feel this first. Shefali, I see you nodding. 

Luthra: Yeah, one thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is you do hear Republicans, especially someone like [Maine Sen.] Susan Collins, really trying to tout the rural health fund that was part of this, right, and that was meant to, at least rhetorically, offset these massive healthcare cuts. Obviously, you look at math, you look at numbers, and one doesn’t really undo the other. But …  

Rovner: Yeah, the rural health fund is, what, $150 billion of $1 trillion … ? 

Sanger-Katz: $50 billion, I think. 

Rovner: Or, oh, it was even less. 

Luthra: And so, yeah. I mean, I think what maybe people didn’t fully appreciate is that voters are less compelled, perhaps, by [lawmakers] saying I voted for this funding, and more compelled by what they see happening around them, which is these massive cuts resulting in major changes to what is often the biggest employer, what is often the only source of healthcare for miles, something that is very intimate, very much of the community. And that’s why this is just such a potent issue, especially in a lot of these really close Senate races now. 

Roubein: I mean, we’ve seen in the past how rural healthcare can impact politics. With Medicaid expansion, Republicans were really, really, really against it, and then you saw some begin to change their mind — North Carolina being a notable example, and just all of the ballot measures in red states — Oklahoma, for instance. 

Rovner: Idaho. 

Sanger-Katz: I think it’s worth just pointing out how much is still to come. I think a lot of what we’re seeing right now is hospitals and other healthcare organizations that were kind of in a difficult financial situation going into this change in policy. They’re looking around, they’re already in the red, and they see they’re not going to get more money in the future; they’re going to get less money. And so I think a lot of them are accelerating changes that they were hoping to stave off. But the real cuts in almost all cases have not come yet. So, you know, the work requirements, as Rachel noted, are going to reduce the number of people who are covered by Medicaid. So that means that a lot of these healthcare organizations are going to have to absorb uncompensated care that was previously paid for. But then, further down the road, there are actually much larger cuts that are coming to state Medicaid budgets that are done in these kind of complicated, a little bit obscure, formulaic ways. But there are these reductions on how much the state can directly pay hospitals for care. There are reductions in how much states can raise through Medicaid taxes that then get transferred back. And there, I think, have been very valid criticisms of these funding mechanisms for Medicaid. They are this kind of Rube Goldberg complicated ways of financing the program, but they’ve been around for decades, and these healthcare organizations and these state budgets have really been built on the foundation of these funding streams. And so, as that money starts to go away, I think, then we may see even larger impacts because, again, the things that are happening now are healthcare organizations looking down the road and thinking, Ooh, it’s going to get messy. Maybe I should start adjusting now. But down the road, it will start getting messy for them, and I think there are going to be potentially some much harder choices for some of these organizations. 

Rovner: Well, continuing along that theme, , we talked earlier this summer about a new rule from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services to enforce the administration’s ban on the use of the Medicaid or CHIP [Children’s Health Insurance] Program to pay for gender-affirming care for minors. But it seems that the mechanism CMS is using could open the door to denying coverage for other drugs too, or at least some uses of other drugs. Now, this isn’t in the Stat story, but, Shefali, when I read it, I wondered if one goal here is to cut back on the use of drugs like misoprostol, which is used for a lot of things, but also for medication abortion. 

Luthra: That’s a really good question, and I think one that we still don’t really know. And obviously, a lot of states’ Medicaid doesn’t cover abortion to begin with. That really only happens in states that have actively made an effort. But, I mean, misoprostol is not only used for abortion; it is used for miscarriage management. And I think it’s just something really important for us to keep in mind what happens when you see these sorts of approaches to just, like, carving out individual forms of healthcare. And obviously, it’s very interesting as well because drugs used for gender-affirming care are also used for other things. RFK [Robert F. Kennedy] Jr. really loves hormone therapy for many people, just not trans people. And so I think there’s just a lot of questions that we don’t really have answers to about just how sweeping the implications of something like this could be. 

Rovner: Yeah, we will see as it goes. Well, it’s not just Medicaid. that CMS is clawing back billions of dollars in Affordable Care Act premium subsidies from insurers who have allegedly phantom enrollees, people with zero premium plans who don’t file claims. And while that is a known problem, a lot of those people might be actual enrollees who just haven’t needed their insurance yet, as in young, healthy folks who have health insurance just in case, or because their parents told them that they should, and, by the way, they could get a plan with a zero premium. And stripping these people from the rolls is likely to boost premiums overall by making risk pools sicker, in general. I feel like this administration might not be familiar with the bizarre and sometimes illogical way the health insurance market works? 

Sanger-Katz: I think there’s a delicate balance going on here, where if there are people who are enrolled in these plans who are fake, are not real people, do not know that they have insurance, never plan to use their insurance, you know, that is a waste of federal dollars to subsidize those premiums and just give that money to insurance companies. But I don’t think that there’s very strong evidence that there are a lot of these people. And I also think that the mere fact that someone has not used their health insurance yet, in a year, is not by itself evidence that they are a fake person or that their enrollment is fraudulent. As you said, Julie, there are a lot of reasons why people in this market may not have used their insurance. You know, a lot of the people who have become newly enrolled are relatively young and healthy. That is good for the risk pool, but it may mean they don’t have a lot of healthcare needs. There’s also, just because of the nature of the individual market, you know, one expert pointed out to me, there’s just a lot of churn. You know, someone loses their job, they sign up for a plan, then they get a different plan, or, you know, people who are in this market may only be in this market for a short period of time, and that may also explain why there’s a higher share of them who don’t make any claims, because they haven’t sort of gotten through the whole year, they haven’t had a healthcare need yet. So I think deciding to just disenroll people on this basis does risk disenrolling people who are legitimately insured, who are not phantoms, and who are not committing any kind of fraud. To the degree that there is fraudulent enrollment, and I think there’s evidence that there’s some of it, there are, you know, I think that is a valid concern, and I think the federal government is certainly within its rights to try to address that and make sure that these federal tax subsidies are being appropriately spent. 

Rovner: Yeah, I think “delicate balance” is exactly the right word. I mean, that’s, you know, with the work requirements too. I mean, the idea is to make sure that people are doing things. But if you make the administrative requirements so burdensome, then you’re going to throw off people who are legitimately enrolled. 

Moving on to the next theme of the summer: the resurgence of measles, and the continuing fight over vaccine policy. Until this week, the Trump administration had boasted that while measles cases have been rising pretty precipitously — they’re at the highest level in more than three decades — the U.S. was actually doing better than most other countries with outbreaks, and besides, no one had died of measles yet this year. Well, that worked until Tuesday, when the Pennsylvania Department of Health announced two measles-related deaths in Lancaster County — although we have few details other than that both people were unvaccinated and one was an infant. The announcement touched off a rather nasty war of words between Pennsylvania governor (and possible 2028 presidential candidate) Democrat Josh Shapiro and HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who said that the state was not cooperating with federal health officials, and maybe the people didn’t actually die of measles after all. This isn’t really going to get more people vaccinated, I would suggest — this just sort of fighting back and forth, right? 

Luthra: It’s a good question. It certainly doesn’t help. I think one thing I was thinking about this morning, and this is not measles-specific, but there’s a really great New Yorker piece from this week looking at the actual vaccine data over the past year and a half, and obviously people are affected by public rhetoric, but the declines in vaccination are not as big as one might have feared when RFK Jr. was initially nominated and really made a point of highlighting anti-vaccine beliefs. And so obviously, like, this is, the fact that people are dying is very bad. The fact that they’re sowing confusion … 

Rovner: The fact that people are getting measles is very bad! 

Luthra: Yes, it’s very, very bad. It’s not, none of it is good. But that was actually really striking to me that amidst all of this, like, really terrible news, there is a bright spot, which is that things could be a lot worse. That is something that I hadn’t thought about. 

Roubein: I mean, if, I think … I’ve been thinking about this today, like, if you kind of step back from the really high-level view, I think Americans who are watching this are confused. They are not sure who to trust. There are, you know, Republicans are saying one thing, Kennedy allies are saying one thing, the Department of Health [and Human Services] and Gov. Shapiro, Democrats are saying another thing. You’re seeing a, you know, a war of words between, like, Republican and Democratic county commissioners on this, you know, just from a public health messaging standpoint. 

Rovner: Yeah, it has not been a great job of communication all the way around. I think there, I mean, there are even, you know, public health defenders who are saying, Why don’t we know more about these two deaths yet? There’s been not a lot of information, and that has, of course, as we saw, you know, during covid, the more noninformation you have, the more people try to fill in their own information, whether it’s true or not.  

Well, even before the Pennsylvania news, we had a somewhat excruciating pair of appearances on CBS’ Sunday show Face the Nation this week. First, CMS Administrator Dr. [Mehmet] Oz needed three separate tries to be able to say that, no, President [Donald] Trump was incorrect when he said in his Oval Office vaccine event that the measles, mumps, rubella combination shot was lethal. Spoiler: It is not. Then Florida Republican congressman Byron Donalds, who’s now the Republican candidate for governor, said the measles outbreak there has been caused by illegal immigration rather than residents not getting their children vaccinated. What happened to the idea we heard last winter that being anti-vax wasn’t good politics? I think this speaks to what you were just saying, Shefali. You know, I think in January and February we thought that Republicans were going to sort of leave this alone and focus on other things. 

Sanger-Katz: Well, I think one thing that we’ve learned recently is that while a lot of the president’s advisers and political staff, I think, were concerned that an anti-vaccine message was damaging, what we’ve seen is that the president himself sincerely has anti-vaccine views and has been saying them out in public. And so I think it does put other Republican political figures in a difficult bind, and certainly puts folks like Dr. Oz, who work in the administration, in a difficult place. Whatever his genuine views are, whatever his political advisers and his public health advisers are telling him, he works for President Trump, and President Trump has made it pretty clear what he thinks. And so I think that’s why we are now seeing this kind of new round of muddled messaging around vaccines, when I do think for a little while there was kind of a pullback on the most overt anti-vaccine rhetoric, and, you know, we saw RFK talking less about it, for example, in public. Now, I think we’re in a little bit of a new phase, where the president is leading the way back. 

Roubein: Yeah, I mean, I think that’s exactly right, and I mean, Trump has, you know, privately questioned why his administration had yet to release new vaccine recommendations, , with Lena [H. Sun] and my colleague Dan [Diamond]. And that’s, you know, some of what, a lot of what drove the executive order that we saw from just a few weeks ago to reduce the childhood vaccine schedule. Trump says he wants to break up the MMR shot. That’s not something that is currently available, but, you know, he has driven that by pushing some of his advisers. 

Rovner: Yeah, absolutely. Well, meanwhile, demonstrating just how expensive it is to track, trace, and quarantine people after a confirmed case of measles. One Denver outbreak that ended up being just 10 cases still cost state and local agencies nearly a half a million dollars, almost 7,000 hours of work from 189 staff members, not to mention 91 people being quarantined and 500 days of school being missed. We may call public health invisible when it works, but it is certainly not cheap. 

Roubein: Yeah, I mean we don’t talk about the economics of it very often. I mean, public health officials always say that they are underfunded, but just, in general, the talk of the economics here is generally not a huge part of the conversation. 

Sanger-Katz: And measles is just such a difficult disease to contain because it is so contagious. It is one of the most contagious infectious diseases out there. And so that means that any person who has measles just has the potential to spread it to so many people. And I think that really strains these traditional public health approaches of trying to track, trace, and quarantine because you have to find so many contacts. 

Rovner: Yeah, just a reminder, I mean, measles can linger in the air after the infected person has left for, I think it’s like, two hours. So it’s, you know, anybody who’s been in a place where somebody with measles has been is potentially at risk if they’re not vaccinated. 

Sanger-Katz: I mean, we remember how hard this was with covid. Of course, in the early days, no one was vaccinated, so there were more people who were susceptible to covid. But measles is substantially more contagious even than covid. 

Rovner: Yeah. Well, as yet, as the debate continues to rage over vaccines, the evidence continues to pile up that vaccines are actually, on balance, a very good thing. Just this week, we have two more studies. of 4 million teens and young adults that found that those who received that controversial mRNA-based covid vaccine were less likely than those who just got covid to develop myocarditis or other heart problems. That was something that people were worried about with young people getting this vaccine. appears to confirm that the shingles vaccine, Shingrix, appears to not only have a protective effect against dementia, something we reported earlier this year, but also against cardiovascular disease. How do we get to a place where vaccines have become controversial again? I assume, I mean, I want to go back, Margot, to what you were saying that it does seem that President Trump himself has anti-vax views that I think we didn’t appreciate until this year. I mean, I think most of us thought that this was all being driven by RFK Jr., who’d obviously made a career of being anti-vax. But when he backed off, we saw the president basically fill right in, and that’s kind of where we are? 

Sanger-Katz: And I also think this is a reminder to us, both of these studies and others that have come out recently, that, you know, vaccines have some risks. They do. But infectious disease can be really dangerous for people, and it can have lingering and downstream effects that are not obvious. It’s not just that you get sick in the moment that you get sick, but having that disease affects your body in ways that may show up much later. And I think some of these longer-term studies that are following people — you know, not just in the weeks and months after they get a vaccine, but what happens years later to their heart or to other major organ systems —really shows that preventing people from getting serious illness is good for their long-term health. 

Rovner: Yeah. 

Roubein: And I mean, Secretary Kennedy, just to go back to last year, he did drive changes. He fired CDC’s [the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s] vaccine advisers, who had made changes to vaccines. The health department did release a new childhood, slimmed-down childhood immunization schedule earlier this year. A lot of those changes, though, have been on hold from a federal judge. 

Rovner: Yeah, he also fired the head of the CDC, who refused to rubber-stamp his vaccine changes. So, he was busy before he got sort of unbusy with this. All right, we are going to take a quick break. We will be right back. 

OK, our next theme of the summer are the continued cutbacks by the Trump administration to federal health programs, including some of those that have been specifically funded by Congress. First up is a story from ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ this week about how, at the same time President Trump can’t stop talking about the increasing rates of autism and what a problem it is, the administration is scaling back enforcement of civil rights protections for people with autism, research into the education needs of people with all sorts of disabilities, and even data collection efforts. So, on the one hand, the president keeps pressuring RFK Jr. to find a definite cause of autism, but at the same time, this administration is doing less to help those who are already diagnosed? 

Luthra: I think what I find really interesting every time we talk about this is the really, really long tail of funding cuts, because this is something on, like, a broad macro scale that began at the beginning of this administration, right? Just massive funding cuts and freezes across the board and have continued. And because of the way grant-making works, because of the way research works, we keep seeing the consequences. We keep getting more people reporting, “Oh, my funding didn’t come,” or “This was held up,” or “This project I was working on no longer can.” And what I think is also really interesting is we see how slow the ability to respond is because of the long tail of funding cuts. I mean, courts take a long time, finding new funding when you suddenly lose yours actually is very difficult. And this is something that we’re just going to keep coming back to. We are going to be seeing the consequences of these funding cuts for months and years, as we’ve been talking, but also for much longer as the consequences in terms of research, of cures developed or not developed, becomes even more clear. 

Rovner: Yeah, although sometimes I think it’s going to be hard to connect the dots to get from, you know, from you cut this so this didn’t happen. It’s almost going to be like proving a negative at some point. 

Well, another big theme this summer has been drug prices, particularly prices for those expensive GLP-1 weight loss drugs. As part of the administration’s push to make those drugs less expensive for the end users, CMS offered states the option to participate in its direct negotiations with the drug manufacturers if they would offer them through their Medicaid programs. Only, , so far only one state has taken up the offer, and more states are actually cutting back on their GLP-1 coverage through Medicaid that they have been offering because it’s been such a financial strain on their programs. Several state officials told Politico that they worry about the long-term financial sustainability of the program. I know it’s also a worry for the Medicare GLP-1 program, which is basically at this point a year-and-a-half-long pilot for drugs that, as far as we know, need to be taken indefinitely. Is it fair to say that the president has not really been able to keep his promise to make these drugs cheaper and much more widely available, or that if he has, people may end up getting them yanked out from underneath of them? 

Sanger-Katz: I think it’s complicated. I think it’s hard to know how much credit the president should get. But I will say that the prices for these drugs — the kind of cash-pay prices, that he was able to negotiate allegedly, and that he was able to announce certainly a few months ago — were substantially lower than what individuals and insurers, including some public insurers, were paying for those drugs. So we are now seeing a kind of cash price for the main anti-obesity drugs that is much more affordable than it had been in the past. I think some of that was driven by market pressures and would have happened regardless of the president’s intervention. But I think certainly his pushing these companies, his threatening of these companies, his cajoling of these companies probably maybe did induce them to sort of do it at the same time, to do it faster, and to do it more prominently. 

Rovner: Well, some of it already had happened, before he got in. The self-pay cost had already gone down because so many insurers had stopped covering it. 

Sanger-Katz: It had gone down, but it then went down again.  

Rovner: It did. 

Sanger-Katz: The prices that are available now that the president announced are lower than what we had seen in the past, and they are a major discount even compared to the previously lowered prices that had been public. So I think that is a real thing. Whether or not those prices were meaningfully lower than the price that the Medicaid programs in states were already paying is a little bit of an unanswered question. But my understanding from talking to some Medicaid officials is that Medicaid was already getting very similar prices, even before the president announced these discounts. And that’s because Medicaid has, by law, gets the best price for drugs. They get discounts that are not available to other purchasers. And Medicaid budgets are quite tight. You know, as we were just discussing, all of these state Medicaid programs are facing very substantial cuts that are coming down as the rollout of the big tax-and-spending bill is implemented. And the states that went early and did cover GLP-1 drugs for obesity, I think that they saw that interest and uptake really exceeded their expectations. There were a lot of people in the Medicaid population who stood to benefit from these drugs, and that when so many of them enrolled at once and started taking these drugs at once, it did create, I think, an unanticipated budget strain. So I think states are in a difficult position. This pilot is offering them this cash price for their Medicaid programs, and I think a lot of them are looking at that, and they’re saying, “Well, this is, like, a good price. It’s not that much better than what we could have gotten before, and we weren’t doing it before because we didn’t think that we could afford it.” And so I think those circumstances really haven’t changed. It will be interesting to see what happens over time. It does seem like there is huge potential public health benefit for Medicaid populations if these programs can find a way to cover these drugs. You know, the evidence about the health benefits of these drugs for people who have obesity are just really tremendous, and we’re seeing them over numerous, different health conditions and body systems. And, you know, in my own reporting on North Carolina’s Medicaid program, which was one of the early ones to cover these drugs, you know, I just talked to a lot of people who were really excited about having this opportunity to take this drug. People who had really struggled with their weight and related illnesses, and, you know, were glad that the state was offering it to them. And now, you know, North Carolina has had, is one of the states that’s had to roll back. 

Rovner: Yep. All right. Well, finally, this week, a word about Dolly Parton, possibly the only person in America who was pretty literally loved by everyone. The country and pop music superstar and actress who was known for her genuine kindness and generosity was, in fact, also an important healthcare philanthropist. A lot of people probably remember she gave a million dollars to Vanderbilt University in 2020 to help develop the aforementioned mRNA-based covid vaccine. What people might not remember is that she also used her own money to fund pediatric infectious disease research, underwrite a women’s healthcare center in the East Tennessee county where she was raised, and help train pediatric health professionals. There are celebrities who lend their name and their time and sometimes their money to causes to help burnish their personal PR, and then there are those who clearly do it because they want to give back. I think it’s fair to say that Dolly Parton was one of the latter, and I think she’s going to really be remembered for a lot of the work that she did on bringing healthcare to more people, right? 

Luthra: Yeah, yeah. It’s very sad. 

Rovner: It is. And healthcare owes her a debt. All right, that is this week’s news. Now we’ll play my interview with Dean Rosen, and we’ll come back and do our extra credits. 

I am pleased to welcome to the podcast Dean Rosen. Dean is a partner at Mehlman Consulting, where he landed after a long career on both sides of Capitol Hill, during which he helped shape some of the most important health legislation of the 1990s and early 2000s, including President George W. Bush’s HIV/AIDS program, PEPFAR; the Medicare prescription drug law; and the 1997 Balanced Budget Act. But before all those things, Dean was the top health aide to Sen. Nancy Landon Kassebaum, the Kansas Republican who passed away last week at the age of 94. After Republicans took over Congress in the wave election of 1994, Kassebaum chaired the then-Senate Labor and Human Resources Committee, now the HELP [Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions] Committee, and stewarded the surprisingly difficult path to law of what was originally a very bipartisan bill, the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, or HIPAA. Dean Rosen, welcome. 

Dean Rosen: Thanks, Julie. I’m honored to be here, and I’m a longtime fan of What the Health? — so this is a real great opportunity. Excited to be with you. 

Rovner: Great. So, HIPAA, which was known at the time as Kassebaum-Kennedy for its bipartisan Senate sponsors — your boss and the late Edward M. Kennedy, a Democrat of Massachusetts — is today mostly known for its medical records confidentiality provisions. But that’s not how it started out, right? It was really an effort to do something bipartisan in the wake of the failed Bill Clinton very partisan health plan. Talk about how it kind of came to be. 

Rosen: Yeah, that’s exactly right. It sort of started in the Senate and then moved to the House and then moved to a traditional conference committee, which we don’t seem to do very much of, either, anymore these days. But when it started off, it really did start, as you said, as a health insurance portability bill, and just a really, in some ways, minimalist solutions-oriented legislative proposal that was designed to try to get at what was really, I think, the core concern, or one of the core concerns, at the time, which was people’s ability to get and maintain health insurance if they had preexisting conditions.  

And really what happened was the Clinton plan had kind of imploded spectacularly, as you know, despite the fact that there were huge Democratic majorities in the House and the Senate — not filibuster-proof, but close in the Senate — and the Democrats just couldn’t … get it done. And they couldn’t get any Republican support. They couldn’t get enough Democratic support. And then in the 1994 election, something unexpected happened. I guess polling was a little less sophisticated at the time, but you had the “Republican Revolution” led by [who] was to be Speaker [Newt] Gingrich in the House, and you had the Senate — which had changed hands before, but the House, which had not changed hands and had been in Democratic control for 40 years — switch, and Republicans were ascendant. Bill Clinton was still president. I think probably some of the fact that there was such a gain of seats had something to do with the failure of health reform. And Republicans were getting ready to move a very aggressive deregulatory agenda. And Ted Kennedy, who was a liberal lion of the Senate, who you know was a champion of universal coverage and other liberal causes, moved from the majority side of the dais and having the gavel at the Senate Labor Committee, now the HELP Committee, to the minority side. And Sen. Kassebaum, who had hired me just a few months before that, all of a sudden became the first woman to chair a major committee in the Senate, a standing committee in the Senate. And really, what started it, was that Sen. Kennedy and his team came over and met with us, and somewhat surprisingly, said, “Hey, I know I’m for universal coverage, but I’m willing to do something that’s much more modest,” and shared with Sen. Kassebaum and me and the team a chart that they had put together showing where, not had there been disagreement, but where actually there had been agreement among the major plans, ranging from the most liberal, the Clinton plan, to some of the most conservative plans. And the heart of that, Julie, was health insurance portability, preexisting condition protections at access, and that was the bill that started off in the Senate, and that’s the one that gained traction and passed until we got to the House. 

Rovner: So, Sen. Kassebaum was one of those legislators who actually believed in passing laws, even if it meant compromising — so you only achieved a few of your goals at a time. Why are there so few people like that on either side anymore? 

Rosen: Yeah, well, you know, I think I would say also about HIPAA that it … she was an incrementalist. I think she was one of the reasons … she was considered a moderate Republican in the day, and I think now even more moderate. But she was at her heart a conservative in the sense of she believed that the best legislating was done sort of inch by inch, step by step, as opposed to in one bill. And you sort of saw that proof come to be when the Clinton plan failed, because it tried to really do everything in the healthcare system; it was huge. I think to your question: Today, it’s harder because there’s just less overlap, and the incentives are such that, you know, as one current member of Congress, very senior, told me a couple years ago, if you’re a Republican, you’re looking over your right shoulder. If you’re a Democrat, you’re looking over your left shoulder. And I think that the venerable, you know, Cook Political Report says that in this election, there are only truly 18 toss-up seats in the House out of 435. And so, what it means is that, you know, 5% of the country is going to decide who controls the House ultimately, and the incentives are not to put together bipartisan bills, big or small, healthcare or not healthcare. But the incentive is, frankly, to play to your base, particularly in a midterm election. Now, that’s not always the case. You do have examples of bipartisanship, but I think it’s harder because of those incentives, which we’ve seen become more and more true as politics has changed, and, frankly, as the country’s changed. 

Rovner: You wrote a really lovely tribute to the senator about going to the White House for the signing of HIPAA by Bill Clinton, which I think just showed sort of the generosity of spirit of Sen. Kassebaum. Tell us about it? 

Rosen: Yeah, so, you know, after Nancy passed away, there’s a group of us who’ve been keeping up through chat over the years, and her family, actually granddaughter and stepdaughter, had informed us all before they informed the press over the weekend that she had passed away. And I suddenly was sitting there over the weekend and realizing, Julie, that it had been — she had died 30 years to the day since HIPAA was signed by Bill Clinton. And, you know, to your point of bipartisanship, that bill passed the House with only two dissenting votes and the Senate unanimously. So not only was it bipartisan, but it passed unanimously. 

So we went over to the White House — to kind of tell a little bit of the story — I’d never been to the White House before. This was, like, my first job on Capitol Hill. I was much younger then, and — obviously — and the senator made sure I was on the invitation list. And this was, you know, Sen. Kassebaum was not really known as a legislator who was someone who passed, you know, tons of major bills. This was really, if you read all the obituaries, the health insurance portability law is one of the two bills they mention — the other one being a general aviation bill, and her work internationally, which was significant around apartheid. But they mention this health insurance bill as her signature achievement. So we go to the White House. It’s a hot August day, and as I said, I realized that she died 30 years to the day after this bill was signed. And I was reflecting on the fact of something that I never really shared publicly before, that at the signing ceremony, it’s traditional — as you know, you’ve probably been to many, many, many of these — that the presidents will sign these bills, they’ll use multiple pens, as Bill Clinton did, and he handed one of the pens to Sen. Kennedy, and he handed another one to Sen. Kassebaum — we’re standing over each of his shoulders. And we’re walking out of the Rose Garden, and Sen. Kassebaum came over to me, and it was just the two of us, and she said, “Here, I want you to have the pen. You wrote the bill.” And, you know, I guess as a staff person you do, but I didn’t think of it that way. I thought of the fact that she was giving away to me really one of the most tangible symbols of her signature bill, and I said, “I can’t take this. This is your bill. This is one of your crowning achievements. You worked so hard to get this done.” And she insisted that I keep it.  

And as I said in the piece that I wrote, you know, it struck me that that was just essential Nancy Kassebaum, that not only in the legislation could she find ways to work with Ted Kennedy, who, she said, in subsequent interviews, coming from Kansas — and folks will appreciate this with Wicked being out — that I think a lot of Kansans thought that Ted Kennedy was the Wicked Witch of the East. But working with Ted Kennedy to get something passed into law, and then coming over to me with no ceremony, with no one around, with no political advantage, and just saying, “Here, I’d like to give you credit, as opposed to taking credit for myself,” I think said a lot about her character, and I shared that story with her family, and they gave me permission to share it publicly. I think it just goes to her character and who she was, which, as I said, I think is, much more important than the legislative achievement, was just the kind of person that it takes to get things like that done in Washington today, and, frankly, in Washington then. 

Rovner: Any chance we’re going to get back to seeing those kinds of legislators on Capitol Hill? We’re both in this for the long run. 

Rosen: Yeah, you know, I have to say, you know, I prefer to be somebody, Julie, who looks forward. I mean, you know, you can look back and wring your hands and be pessimistic. But, you know, I came to Washington as a [Ronald] Reagan Republican, and Reagan always said that he felt like American optimism was the heart of the country, and that our best days were ahead. And I really do feel optimistic about the country. We’ve survived a lot over the last 250 years, and you’ve got examples of bipartisan legislation. You’ve got, you know, Dr. [John] Joyce and [Rep. Greg] Murphy, and [Rep. Kim] Schrier, a bipartisan bill in the House that takes on the difficult and expensive issue of Medicare physician reform. You’ve got a bill by Sen. [Chuck] Grassley and [Catherine] Cortez Masto and others in the Senate that got introduced a couple weeks ago on fraud and abuse at a time when that issue could be really political. 

So to me, I do see people of goodwill in both parties who want to get things done. I think we’ve got to recognize, as we talked about a moment ago, that the broader incentives in our country and in our political environment and in our institutions are pulling people apart. And I think it is going to take people of goodwill to find things to do where they can compromise without losing their principles and find ways to make progress. And I do see hopeful signs of that. You know, I’m not sure we’re going to get back to the day where there’s tremendous overlap and a huge number of moderates in either party, but I think it makes it even more important that people of goodwill who come to Washington as citizen legislators and want to solve things find ways to do that. And in this divided government, where we’ve seen 12 change elections of the last 14 and extremely narrow historic margins, it’s going to take both sides to get things done. 

Rovner: We will keep watching, Dean Rosen. Thank you so much. 

Rosen: Thanks, Julie. Thanks for having me. 

OK, we are back. It’s time for our extra-credit segment. That’s where we each recognize a story we read this week we think you should read, too. Don’t worry if you miss it. We will post the links in our show notes on your phone or other mobile device. Rachel, why don’t you go first this week? 

Roubein: My extra credit is from The New York Times. The headline is “,” by Noah Daly and Andrew Jacobs. And the story is about how Americans are traveling abroad, often to Latin America, for psychedelics, a form of medical tourism, and the authors write that this could carry substantial risks. There’s no official tally of injuries, deaths, or adverse events at the overseas psychedelic clinics. But The New York Times interviewed more than two dozen patients and researchers, who cited just a litany of troubling episodes. Basically, the field of psychedelics is in its infancy, so researchers have found this sort of patchwork of standards and rules. And, just for context, here in the United States, the FDA hasn’t approved a psychedelic as of yet, but the idea has really gained traction in recent years for mental health conditions, but particularly, this spring, when President Trump signed an executive order that was aimed at accelerating research into the drugs and also fast-tracking federal reviews of psychedelic medicines. But advocates for these drugs do have concerns about adverse events at overseas clinics because they don’t want it to, you know, kind of spark a backlash that could hamper this trajectory. The Times did speak to a practitioner who said that his prescribing practices were informed by a patient’s self-reported medical history. But I thought this was a really interesting look at what’s happening overbroad given there’s been so much chatter about psychedelics in the United States. 

Rovner: Something else to worry about. Margot. 

Sanger-Katz: I wanted to recommend an article in Stat from Anil Oza. Headline is “.” And this story outlines that a number of people who had submitted comments on a rule about science funding suddenly found their comments removed from the public record. And it appears that the reason is because they were making reference to Russell Vought, the OMB [Office of Management and Budget] head, who, you know, was behind this rule. He has a child with cystic fibrosis who has benefited from a [National Institutes of Health] NIH-funded drug, and I think a lot of them were making reference to that as part of a personal plea for him not to implement this policy. But it’s a little bit puzzling why OMB removed them, on what basis. They haven’t been transparent about it, and there have been basically no explanations. And I think, you know, Secretary Kennedy, during his confirmation hearings, talked about radical transparency in the HHS process and policymaking. And I think this is one of many examples where that really hasn’t happened. There has been a reluctance, I think, by HHS to go through notice-and-comment rulemaking in situations where it is not necessary. There has been a reluctance sometimes to answer questions from the public, from reporters, and I do think that the kind of deletion without explanation of these comments is part of that broader pattern. There is obviously this personal sensitivity here that is part of it, and there may be some valid reason why this public official’s child should not be in the federal record. But it would be nice if someone would explain. 

Rovner: Yeah, and also props not just to Stat, but to the people who actually have been tracking these comments and noticed that they were taken down. Shefali. 

Luthra: All right. My story is from LJ Dawson. It is a collaboration between ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and The Washington Post. The headline is “.” This story combines many of my interests, like European vacations, Greece, and fertility treatment. And I think it’s a really, really, like, interesting and useful look into just how expensive this can be for Americans, especially if insurance doesn’t cover it, and the lengths to which people go to become pregnant. And the family that the story follows, they live in Florida. They could only get pregnant through IVF [in vitro fertilization]. They were quoted close to $40,000 for a round, and they were like, This is nowhere near what we can afford. They realized it was much cheaper to travel to Greece, to literally go on vacation in Greece and get IVF done there. And this is a thing that people genuinely do. Like, I know many people who have looked into the costs of IVF in different European countries, including Scandinavian ones. And I think it’s just a really helpful, dramatic look at what happens when people really, really would benefit from a medical treatment for achieving their fertility goals, their reproductive goals, etc., but it is simply not affordable. And I think this is also interesting because there has been so much chatter about making IVF more affordable, but, in fact, it is more expensive than ever and more in demand than ever because people are having children later, more likely to need fertility treatment, and we don’t really have a good solution yet in sight. 

Rovner: No, except that our system is way too expensive. Well, you may have noticed that in my themes of the summer, I left out the unusual spate of foodborne illnesses. Well, fear not. My extra credit this week is also from The Washington Post. It’s by Tamar Haspel. It’s called “.” And it makes a pretty good case that lettuce and its leafy green cousins are not only the foods most likely to result in foodborne illness, but it’s also not got much to offer nutritionally. It doesn’t store very well, and the land that we use to cultivate it could be better used for, well, better food. I have to say, I stopped buying lettuce a long time ago, mostly because it doesn’t keep very well, and I live by myself. And while I do eat plenty of salad, it’s mostly cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes. Now, you guys all do you, but I can just say that I haven’t contracted cyclospora this summer. 

All right, that is this week’s show. Thanks to our editor, Emmarie Huetteman, and our producer-engineer this week, Taylor Cook. A reminder: What the Health? is now available on WAMU platforms, the NPR app, and wherever you get your podcasts — as well as, of course, kffhealthnews.org. Also, as always, you can email us your comments or questions. We’re at whatthehealth@kff.org. Or you can still find me on X , or on Bluesky . Where are you guys hanging these days? Shefali. 

Luthra: I’m on Bluesky . 

Rovner: Margot. 

Sanger-Katz: I am all the places , and on Signal at sangerkatz.01. 

Rovner: Rachel. 

Roubein: Several places: on X, ; Bluesky, ; ; Signal; etc. 

Rovner: As I mentioned at the top, we’re taking next week off. You should too, if you can. It’s going to be a busy fall. We will be back in your feed on Sept. 10. Until then, be healthy. 

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]]> 2279917 Trump Puts Autistic Kids in the Spotlight and Cuts Agencies Built To Protect Them /race-and-health/education-department-civil-rights-office-autism-diagnosis-support-discrimination/ Wed, 26 Aug 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2277402 At Chain of Lakes Elementary School in Winter Haven, Florida, Josette Smith’s 9-year-old son, Ethan, gets to do what he loves most: crafts, math, and science. That is, when he isn’t being pulled out of class.

Ethan has autism and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He was diagnosed with autism in kindergarten after displaying behavior that concerned his relatives: He paced, flapped his arms, and became consumed with highly specific interests, such as Martin Luther King Jr. and dachshunds.

In a meeting with school administrators and the district to develop his individualized education program, a legal agreement that outlines the support Ethan requires, the team agreed he required a trained paraprofessional to help him regulate his emotions and remain in class, according to complaints Smith filed against the school. However, the complaints alleged, administrators were unwilling to provide the dedicated aide. Instead of implementing the supports her son needed, his school repeatedly removed him from instruction, suspended him, and even called police on him when he was in third grade, Smith wrote.

Smith, a seventh grade science teacher, said she first filed complaints with the school district and the state with these allegations. But when problems persisted, she turned to the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights, the federal agency tasked with resolving complaints like hers. Smith’s federal complaint included the same account and alleged that the school discriminated against her son because of his disability and race, including deploying pressure tactics to push her Black son out of the public school. In May, the office said it would investigate several of her allegations.

For families who believe their child’s rights were violated based on race, disability, or gender in school, the federal agency often has been one of the main places to turn. But the White House cut its offices and weakened its ability to follow up with cases, as well as slashed funding to that people of color face in for disabilities.

About 1 in 31 U.S. kids by age 8 had been as of 2022. Although previous research on disparities in childhood autism diagnoses has had mixed results, a recent study from the State University of New York at Albany’s Institute for Social and Health Equity found that race, gender, and socioeconomic . Among fourth graders from 2003 to 2022, students of color, girls, low-income students, and multilingual learners were less likely than peers to be identified with autism in school, even as diagnoses rose among children from historically marginalized groups, the study found. A large forthcoming study by the same researchers found the biggest gaps among overlapping identities. Black and Hispanic girls were especially unlikely to be identified.

All this has happened as President Donald Trump’s second administration has put autism in the spotlight. In early August, Trump to whittle down routine immunizations for kids while falsely tying vaccines to autism. He has presented it as a and one of “the most alarming public health developments in history.” Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. in April 2025 called autism a and he’s lent credence to , including unfounded links to childhood vaccines and .

“This administration is taking us backwards,” said , founder and executive director of The Color of Autism Foundation.

HHS spokesperson Emily Hilliard said in an email that Kennedy’s statements last spring “emphasized the need for increased research into environmental factors contributing to the rise in autism diagnoses, not to stigmatize individuals with autism or their families.” She added that the agency changes are “about making federal support systems work better for children and families.” White House spokesperson Kush Desai did not respond to a request for comment. Neither did the press office for the Department of Education.

A child plays with toys at a table
Josette Smith filed a complaint with the federal Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights on behalf of her 9-year-old son, Ethan, alleging that his school in Winter Haven, Florida, discriminated against him because of his disability and race. The office said it would investigate several of her allegations and dismissed others that the state had already reviewed. (Octavio Jones for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A young boy jumps on a trampoline while his mother watches
Ethan was repeatedly removed from class, suspended, and charged with battery as a third grader at a public school in Winter Haven. (Octavio Jones for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

The cuts to agencies and research have affected parts of the federal government focused on students with disabilities. In March 2025, Trump signed an to dismantle the Department of Education and of its Office for Civil Rights’ 12 regional offices. This June, his administration special-education oversight to HHS and the Office for Civil Rights to the Department of Justice.

“On paper, it’s a reorganization,” said , a former supervising attorney at the Office for Civil Rights who now runs her own education law firm. In practice, she said, it could leave families whose complaints involve overlapping harms — such as race and disability discrimination — caught between agencies built for different jobs. “The hardest thing to prove in these cases is now the thing with no obvious home.”

In April, a year after the order, a Senate committee report from Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) concluded that the Office for Civil Rights had in resolutions to discrimination complaints and had a backlog of nearly 12,000 civil rights cases. A recent Washington Post investigation found that the Trump administration “indefinitely froze” many of these cases.

On top of those cuts, the White House vowed to in areas such as school discipline despite research showing that nonwhite and low-income kids disproportionately face barriers to being identified with autism and and other neurodevelopmental diagnoses.

It the Institute of Education Sciences, the Department of Education’s research arm, canceling roughly $900 million in funding for research, including . The administration further data collection on racial disparities in school discipline. The National Institutes of Health and National Science Foundation have referencing terms including “race” and “gender,” focused on diversity, equity, or inclusion.

“If we’re cutting any data collection that helps us understand the problem, we’re not going to fix it,” said , director of the Institute for Social and Health Equity at SUNY-Albany, who led the studies on disparities in autism diagnoses. “All we’re doing right now is making the situation worse.”

The nation’s also appears to lack prominent scientists and Black members and has fewer autistic self-advocates than before, said Proctor of The Color of Autism Foundation, who served on the panel before the Trump administration took over. The panel has also been criticized for including .

HHS’ Hilliard said the members “bring decades of experience in autism research and clinical care” and are committed to aligning “federal policy with gold-standard science.”

Disability advocates say federal officials are focused on the wrong priorities.

“All of it creates chaos where chaos is not necessary,” said Cameron Lynch, a former policy analyst for the .

A woman sits on a couch
Josette Smith’s son was diagnosed with autism in kindergarten after displaying behavior that concerned his relatives: He paced, flapped his arms, and became consumed with highly specific interests, such as Martin Luther King Jr. and dachshunds. (Octavio Jones for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Disability rights advocates fear the changes to special education oversight weaken the federal safety net for autistic students and others with disabilities, making these systems more confusing when families need help enforcing students’ rights.

David Sitcovsky, Autism Speaks’ vice president of advocacy, said families, especially those from marginalized communities, already often lack support for their children to receive a timely diagnosis or services in their school systems.

“The common thread across these issues is access,” Sitcovsky said. “If their child’s rights are not being upheld, do they have a clear path to get help?”

Smith awaits a decision about her federal civil rights case, which she was told could take more than a year amid the backlog, as Ethan has started fourth grade. She wants Ethan transferred to a school better equipped to support him. She has also requested an expedited hearing for a due process complaint she filed with the state.

The family is also navigating battery charges against Ethan, the first of which was filed in March after the school called police on him for allegedly hitting staff. A police report and an email provided by Smith showed that police arrived at her door hours after Smith informed the school district in writing that she had filed a federal discrimination complaint. Smith also pointed out the timing in several of her complaints.

A Polk County Public Schools spokesperson declined to comment, citing student confidentiality. The Florida Department of Education did not respond to a request for comment.

“As a Black mom, you dare not complain about anything,” Smith said. “Once you start advocating for your kids, it’s a problem. But it’s not these kids’ fault that they have a disability.”

Without timely assessments and interventions, , children of color with disabilities such as Ethan are disproportionately at risk of being and into the juvenile and criminal justice systems.

led the Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights in the Obama and Biden administrations and is now executive director of the Edley Center on Law & Democracy at the University of California-Berkeley School of Law. She said it’s a scary time for families who want to protect their children’s rights.

“People speed if they don’t see a police car,” Lhamon said. “If they think that there’s no one at the federal government watching them in school, we will see an increase in discrimination.”

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2277402 Where Florida’s Gun Violence Exacts Its Biggest Toll on Black and Latino Children /public-health/florida-gun-violence-kids-data-analysis-jacksonville-black-latino-disparities/ Tue, 25 Aug 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2278230 JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — Just west of the St. Johns River, which divides this sprawling city racially and economically, 2-year-old A’mahri Robinson was murdered in his mother’s arms.

Ladonna Johnson was rocking A’mahri to sleep in March when he was shot in the head with a gun she kept for protection.

A’mahri loved going outdoors and taking rides in his pull-along wagon. His mother called the toddler “sweet” and “affectionate.” When he was around, she said, “you just felt love.”

The child was close with Steven Dodson Jr., his mother’s boyfriend, who had reached for the gun during an argument. Dodson, 21, in June to murder and aggravated child abuse and was sentenced to life in prison.

A’mahri died in one of Florida’s most violent places for children: Jacksonville. This city has three ZIP codes that rank among the 10 worst in the state for firearm injuries involving children.

A photo of a two-year-old standing outside.
Two-year-old A’mahri Robinson was murdered while in his mother’s arms in March. (Ladonna Johnson)

Every year, hundreds of children are hospitalized in Florida with gunshot wounds, and overwhelmingly, they come from a tiny number of ZIP codes, an exclusive analysis of hospital data by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and The Trace found.

Hospital billing data obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration shows that from 2018 to 2024 more than 4,000 children 17 or younger were hospitalized for firearm injuries — a rate of about 1.5 a day.

The newsrooms gathered data that the state’s hospitals use to collect payments from insurance companies or the government. The information does not identify patients but includes details about where they lived and their age, race, and other demographics.

The number of children killed in Jacksonville has grown so large that , Families of Slain Children, built a “Wall of Compassion” memorial listing hundreds of people killed by gunfire in the city. Memorial organizers have stood up a second wall nearby that is filling with names.

A photo shows a length of white wall on a square of grass. Crosses line the top of the wall. Names are written on the wall.
The Jacksonville nonprofit Families of Slain Children has built a memorial called the “Wall of Compassion” that lists the names of hundreds of people who have been killed by gun violence in the city. (Daniel Chang/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

The numbers reflect how Florida’s long history of racial discrimination and permissive gun laws undermine public health, said researchers, public officials, community activists, and grieving parents.

Jacksonville kids were shot most often in racially segregated neighborhoods — a legacy from the early 20th century of state-sanctioned discrimination in housing, banking, and investment. These areas today are plagued by pollution from defunct city-run trash incinerators, garbage-strewn lots, dilapidated housing, poverty, and other problems that local leaders have been promising to fix for more than 50 years.

Nearly all the Florida ZIP codes with the highest rates of firearm injuries for children have large Black or Latino populations.

Perhaps nowhere is the toll of gun violence more evident than at UF Health Jacksonville, a safety net hospital and the only Level I trauma center in northeastern Florida.

As chief of acute care surgery, sees firsthand the toll exacted by guns.

“You see it day in and day out,” Madbak said. “I’m working tonight, and I suspect I’ll see a couple victims.”

A table of Florida zip codes with city and county columns, ranked by the number of under-18 gunshot wound patients from 2018 through 2024. A column of the rate of U18 GSW patients per 100k children per year is shaded blue, darker for higher rates, lighter for lower ones.

Florida ZIP Codes With Highest Youth Gunshot Wound Hospitalizations

A table of Florida zip codes with city and county columns, ranked by the number of under-18 gunshot wound patients from 2018 through 2024. A column of the rate of U18 GSW patients per 100k children per year is shaded blue, darker for higher rates, lighter for lower ones.

ZIP codes with 1-10 youth GSW hospitalizations over the 2018-2024 period are omitted due to privacy laws.<br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

, a UF Health pediatrician and former health director for Duval County, which includes Jacksonville, said state and local leaders have failed to address what he called the “root causes” of preventable firearm injuries and deaths, such as poverty, lack of opportunity, and neglect.

“The bottom line is nobody gives a flying f— about these young men,” Goldhagen said.

Gun violence victims and their families of depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, and other mental health problems.

Throughout U.S. history, local governments have pushed industrial plants, , and highways through Black neighborhoods even as to increased risks of cardiovascular and respiratory diseases, cancer, preterm births, and gun violence.

But the Florida Department of Health does not focus on gun violence as a public health threat, Goldhagen said, despite its being the nation’s for children and teens.

The , a set of goals developed by the health department and an advisory committee, does not mention guns, the toll they take on children, or efforts to reduce firearm deaths and injuries to young people.

Instead, its goals include preventing or reducing sudden unexpected infant deaths and youth drownings, emergency room visits for motor vehicle crashes, and hospitalizations for traumatic brain injuries.

And yet, no one with the authority to address this public health crisis would agree to talk to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ about gun violence and its toll on Jacksonville’s children — not the Florida health department, Gov. Ron DeSantis, Mayor Donna Deegan, or 18 of 19 members of the Jacksonville City Council.

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Only Council member Jimmy Peluso responded. Peluso said the city has long ignored the needs of neighborhoods with high rates of firearm injuries among children.

“A lot of these neighborhoods have just felt like the wealth has left them,” he said, “and the city didn’t come in to put in the amount of work they needed to.”

DeSantis, a Republican, in public comments has called for few limits on how people purchase or carry firearms. He to allow Floridians to carry concealed weapons without a permit.

When then-U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy declared firearm violence a public health crisis in 2024, DeSantis called the advisory an “.”

DeSantis said Florida would not follow the advisory, which recommended policies including universal background checks for gun purchases and requirements for secure storage.

DeSantis spokesperson Molly Best declined an interview request and to answer questions about the governor’s gun policies.

“There isn’t an agenda to end gun violence in the state of Florida,” said Jean Francis, a former pediatric nurse who leads the Jacksonville chapter of Moms Demand Action, part of a nonprofit that advocates for stronger firearm laws.

Research has linked increases in pediatric gun deaths from 2011 to 2023 to state-level gun policies.

States with permissive gun policies, such as “stand your ground” and open carry laws, reported higher rates of firearm deaths among children than states with strict regulations, such as weapon and age restrictions, according to a .

The study ranked Florida among a group of 30 states with the most permissive gun policies. Four states with comparatively strict gun laws — California, Maryland, New York, and Rhode Island — saw a decrease in pediatric gun deaths over the same time period.

prevents cities and counties from enacting stricter gun safety measures.

kids in disadvantaged neighborhoods are up to 20 times more likely to suffer firearm injuries than their peers in the most advantaged areas.

“It’s disheartening,” Madbak said. UF Health Jacksonville treated 255 patients for gunshot wounds in 2024, including 32 who were 17 or younger, he said.

A zip code choropleth map of Florida shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21,21-44,44-79,79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

In Some Florida Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of Florida shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21,21-44,44-79,79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Broward County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Fort Lauderdale area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Duval County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Jacksonville area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21,21-44,44-79,79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Miami-Dade County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A ZIP code choropleth map of the Miami area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21,21-44,44-79,79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Orange County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Orlando area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21,21-44,44-79,79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Palm Beach County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Palm Beach area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with fewer than 10 hospitalizations are suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Escambia County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Pensacola area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Manatee and Sarasota County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Sarasota area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Pinellas County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Saint Petersburg area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Leon County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Tallahassee area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In Some Hillsborough County Neighborhoods,<br>Child Gunshot Hospitalizations Are Common

A zip code choropleth map of the Tampa area shaded in blue by gunshot hospitalizations per 100k children. Shade buckets are: No cases, 0-7, 7-21, 21-44, 44-79, 79-140, Population too small. Click the city names to visit those regions and see zip codes with smaller geographic areas.

ZIP codes with 1-10 hospitalizations have data suppressed or represented as ranges to comply with privacy laws. <br><br>GSW = gunshot wound<br><br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration

In 2025, the hospital treated 269 patients for firearm injuries, including 22 who were under 18, according to Dan Leveton, a hospital spokesperson. As of Aug. 19, the hospital has treated 137 patients for gunshot wounds this year, including 18 who were 17 or younger.

Preventing gun violence “shouldn’t be a political issue, even though it is,” Madbak said, adding that there is a lot of room for more effective advocacy for violence prevention.

“It’s really an American issue,” Madbak said, “and our state has been impacted tremendously by this kind of violence.”

The Pain of Mothers, Grandmothers, and Aunts

A white woman stands outside by a tree surrounded with flowers.
Kim Crow, grandmother of Bryce Williams, who died at age 17 from being shot in a neighborhood park in an Orlando suburb in 2018. Crow says her grandson’s death has left a void in her life. “I’m not me anymore,” she says. (WFTV)

In Orlando, one ZIP code — 32805 — had the state’s highest rate of children under 18 hospitalized for a gunshot wound from 2018 through 2024, with a total of 25 children, or 125.8 per 100,000.

On New Year’s Day 2018, Bryce Williams, 17, was in Casselberry, an Orlando suburb. He was found dead after crashing his blue Kia into a home near the park.

Williams’ death devastated his family, his grandmother Kim Crow told WFTV in Orlando.

“First off, you can’t believe that someone is taken from you so violently,” Crow said. “It’s heartbreaking.”

In April, Daesean Moctezuma Orland, 18, was while attending a house party outside Orlando. Two others wounded in the shooting were taken to the hospital. Police arrested a 16-year-old boy about a month after the shooting and charged him with Moctezuma Orland’s death.

Moctezuma Orland’s grandmother Iveliz Moctezuma told WFTV that a friend of her grandson’s called her and daughter Noemi Moctezuma to tell them that he had been shot. The women drove to four hospitals, including one in Tampa, searching for him.

A Latina woman sits for a television interview in her home. She is tearing up.
Iveliz Moctezuma, grandmother of Daesean Moctezuma Orland, who was shot and killed at age 18 at a house party in Davenport, Florida, in April. “It was the hardest night of my life,” she says. “They ripped him away from us.” (Keary Croskrey/WFTV)

“My every day is crumbled,” Iveliz Moctezuma said. “It’s hard to work. You sit there and you watch the news. You’re like, oh my God, there goes another kid getting killed by gun violence.”

“It’s a hole in my chest, a hole in my mind,” Noemi Moctezuma said. “It’s like the biggest void that you could ever possibly imagine, that not even the happiest moments can fill a void like that.”

Jacksonville, a city of about 1 million, is particularly treacherous for children living in areas north and west of downtown.

The victims include a gunned down while playing in front of a house, a fatally wounded coming home from a football tryout, and a killed by a stray bullet as she sat in a parked car.

Advocates for victims said that gun violence has ripped any sense of normalcy from families and entire neighborhoods. Grieving mothers fear fireworks and other loud noises that sound like gunshots. Grappling with their own emotions, they said, they sometimes struggle to help their surviving children cope with the loss.

“When you hear their stories, you think, ‘This is the worst thing I have ever heard,’” Francis said, “until you hear the next one.”

Hours after graduating from Jacksonville’s Raines High School in May 2022, , 18, was shot and killed while arriving at a friend’s celebration. Fields was walking into the party when a car pulled up and opened fire, his mother, Yvonne Fields, told Action News Jax in an interview.

A defensive lineman on his high school football team, Fields had been offered a full scholarship to play for Keiser University in West Palm Beach. His parents were planning a party for the following day to celebrate his graduation.

“Everybody loved him,” Yvonne Fields said of her youngest son, calling him “the life of the party.”

A Black woman sits for a TV interview indoors.
Yvonne Fields of Jacksonville talks about the death of her son, Rashaud Fields, 18, who was shot and killed in May 2022 at a high school graduation party. (Kevin Jordan/Action News Jax)

“Rashaud loved to dance. He was a joke teller. He was funny,” Fields said.

At the time, Rashaud Fields was at least the ninth 17- to 19-year-old homicide victim in the city that year, according to the , the local newspaper. Yvonne Fields said she has kept her son’s room exactly as he left it the day he was killed. She smells his shirt every day.

“I know he’s not coming back,” she said, “but I can feel the spirit.”

Two days after celebrating his 18th birthday, Maurice Hobbs was fatally shot in January 2017 as he waited for his mother to pick him up.

“I was not even a block away,” Latasha Hobbs said to Action News Jax.

A photo shows a white woman being hugged outside in the evening at a gathering.
Latasha Hobbs receives a hug at a gathering to end gun violence in Jacksonville on Aug. 27, 2018. Her son, Maurice Hobbs, was shot and killed two days after celebrating his 18th birthday in January 2017. (Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

A singer, rapper, and poet, Maurice Hobbs wanted to perform and launch a clothing line. He dreamt of making enough money to give homes to everyone in his family so they could all live on the same street.

His mom recalled celebrating his birthday with cake and dancing in the kitchen and his reaction to turning 18.

“He was like, ‘Oh my God, Mom, I made it to 18,’” Latasha Hobbs said. “So it’s hard to swallow knowing that my baby didn’t make it to 19. It’s not fair. My baby deserves to be here.”

Pamela Howard has struggled for nearly two decades with the pain of the killing of her son Derrell Baker at age 17.

Howard, a mother of five, called her son energetic and an anchor for his younger siblings. Baker excelled at football, she said, and was on track to graduate high school despite having severe attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder.

Someone shot Baker in September 2008 as he walked to school. A passerby found him by the road.

A Black woman sits outside as she holds two framed photos of her son.
Pamela Howard has spent nearly two decades trying to help police find the person who killed her son Derrell Baker, 17, as he walked to school in 2008. (Malcolm Jackson for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Howard said she thought Baker was at school and later football practice. The family learned something might be wrong only when a sibling heard that Baker had been shot.

Howard called area hospitals in search of her son. By the time she found him at UF Health Jacksonville, it was too late, she said: He had died hours earlier.

“I don’t remember anything after they told me” he was dead, Howard said. “My friends say they just heard me scream.”

For the mothers Fields, Hobbs, and Howard, the sudden, unexpected death of their children cut deep. The lack of closure is painful. Police have not made an arrest in any of the cases.

“When I get justice,” Yvonne Fields said, “maybe I’ll be a little at peace.”

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Leading Cause of Death

, chief of pediatric surgery and trauma at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, said there has to be an appetite in state capitals to regulate firearms and protect children from gun violence.

Nance co-authored a in JAMA Pediatrics finding that the number of states where guns were the leading cause of death for children and teens increased from zero over the period 2004 to 2008 to 24 from 2019 to 2023.

Motor vehicle deaths among children, once the leading cause of death in that group, have declined primarily because of safety interventions undertaken by governments and car manufacturers, he said, from seat belt laws and speed limits to air bags and antilock brakes.

“That progress has been pretty universal across the U.S.,” he said, “but firearm stuff is just all over the map.”

Guns don’t have federal safety standards, Nance noted. They aren’t regulated by the Consumer Product Safety Commission, a federal agency that protects the public from dangerous products, and they can’t be recalled the way unsafe toys or cars can be.

“We’ve really done almost nothing to change the trajectory of firearm injuries in kids,” Nance said.

Goldhagen, the UF Health pediatrician, said Jacksonville leaders tried to address gun violence through the Jacksonville Journey, an initiative launched in 2008 — when Duval County was the murder capital of Florida — under former Mayor John Peyton.

The program for children at risk of violence provided mentorship, summer camps, job training, and nonpolice strategies such as neighborhood beautification projects and community center programs. The Journey also partnered with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office on gang intervention focused on young people.

Officials credited the effort with a nearly 40% reduction in homicides in Duval County in its first four years.

After Peyton left office in 2011, program spending of about $15 million was slashed to $8.6 million in 2012 and about $2.3 million in 2014. The scaled-back program was eventually combined with another children’s initiative to form the , which uses city, state, and federal grants to fund youth services and intervention programs.

Duval County is the only large county in Florida that does not have a child services tax dedicated to programs for children, including efforts to reduce youth crime.

City leaders believe “public safety is about fire and police, but not social services,” said Vicki Waytowich, executive director of the , a nonprofit funded through grants and contracts that provides health and juvenile justice services for children and families in Jacksonville.

“There is absolutely zero political will to do anything that remotely resembles a child services tax,” she said.

In 2024, on a gun violence prevention program called Cure Violence, which tried to squash beefs between youths before they escalated to shootings. A city Office of Inspector General report and sound financial practices.

“We have a public health system that doesn’t focus on this as a public health or population health issue,” Goldhagen said.

Waytowich said crime is a symptom of much deeper problems on the north side of Jacksonville, from neighborhood decay to generational trauma and lack of job opportunities.

“We don’t really have the funds to address the root causes,” she said. “What we’re doing is slapping a band-aid on things.”

Unlike in Mandarin, a predominantly white neighborhood on the south side of Jacksonville with easy access to about seven grocery stores, children of the city’s north side have poor nutrition, Waytowich said, and many walk more than a mile to get to school.

“We can see that kids don’t have hope,” Waytowich said. “When kids believe they’re going to die at 21, then what’s the use of goal-setting and résumé-building workshops?”

In 2025, Jacksonville Mayor Deegan launched a program to address gun violence called .

But like its predecessor, Journey Forward does not have a dedicated, ongoing source of funding.

Hard Memory

On March 22, Ladonna Johnson said, she broke up with Dodson because she saw that he was sharing location information with other women on his cellphone.

She said she went into a bedroom where A’mahri and his sister were watching television and put her son on her lap. Dodson followed Johnson into the room, she said, then went into a closet and retrieved the gun.

“He just kept asking me, ‘What are we doing?’” Johnson said.

Moments later, Johnson said, she heard a loud bang. Her daughter started to cry.

They will both need therapy, she said. She is dedicated to preserving A’mahri’s memory: “I want people to know how adorable and sweet my son was.”

Still, she said, “I feel like I will never be OK.”

Methodology

To find that more than 4,000 children under 18 had been treated in Florida hospitals for gunshot wounds from 2018 to 2024, The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analyzed two datasets obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration via a data request:

  • In the emergency department file, which contained records of 67,565,314 ER visits that did not result in an inpatient admission, we identified 37,415 gunshot wound cases using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s .
  • In the inpatient file, which contained records of 21,857,664 hospital visits in which patients were admitted, we identified 28,149 gunshot wound cases using the CDC definition.

We defined children as 17 and under and filtered the patient age column to find that 2,340 children had been treated in ERs and 1,684 admitted to hospitals with gunshot wounds. To avoid double-counting, we excluded patients from the emergency department file whose records indicated that they were transferred to a different inpatient facility.

Demographic breakdowns were generated using the race and ethnicity columns in the datasets.

To examine the geographic distribution of the burden of gun violence, we grouped child gunshot wound victims by the ZIP code provided. Importantly, this ZIP code is the location not of the shooting but of the child’s residence. A small number of children in the data had out-of-state ZIP codes, or placeholder ZIP codes indicating they were homeless or from a foreign country. These children are included in statewide totals as children treated in Florida hospitals but not in ZIP-level results.

This data does not include children who were shot but died at the scene or before reaching the hospital or who never received medical treatment.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ data editor Holly K. Hacker contributed to this report.

This report was produced by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, The Trace, Action News Jax in Jacksonville, and WFTV in Orlando.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2278230 The Newest Federally Recognized Tribe Wants Better Healthcare. It May Be On Its Own. /rural-health/tribe-native-disparities-indian-health-service-federal-recognition-lumbee-north-carolina/ Fri, 31 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2259072 LUMBERTON, N.C. — Soybean fields surround Angie Lowery’s home in Robeson County, on a plot of rural land in southeastern North Carolina. Dozens of antique gas station signs, 20 feet tall, dominate her front yard. A framed re-creation of The Last Supper, Lone Ranger posters, and a 3-foot-wide tobacco harvesting basket adorn the walls of her home. A collector, Lowery over the years has amassed remnants of her region’s past.

But behind the house, the 44-year-old’s backyard garden showcases her goals for the future, one that involves a long, healthy life with her kids: collard greens, bell peppers, onions, tomatoes, red and white potatoes, kale.

Like Lowery, many in the small towns of Lumberton and nearby Pembroke are citizens of the Lumbee Tribe who have dealt with heart conditions. The mother of four struggled with obesity and had to take insulin pills and shots daily. By when her first grandchild was born, in 2024, Lowery imagined her own life ending the way her biological father’s did: Daily insulin shots for diabetes. Kidney dialysis treatments at home. Dead of a heart attack at 63. She wanted her grandkids to remember her.

“If I don’t get this weight off me, if I don’t change my eating habits, it’s going to take me over,” she recalled thinking.

So, she expanded her garden. She cut fatty foods and sugary drinks out of her diet, stopped eating fried and fast food, and started moving more. She lost 120 pounds in two years and weaned herself off the daily insulin pills.

The Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina late last year became the 575th tribe to secure federal recognition as a sovereign nation, a milestone that leaders and citizens celebrated in tears. The designation provides federal funding for an array of services, including for healthcare. , chairman of the tribe and a state representative, “the biggest benefit” would be access to the Indian Health Service — its clinics and hospitals, as well as funding that it could provide for the tribe to .

But Lumbee researchers and healthcare providers say that money won’t be enough. For decades, IHS has been , with the agency’s budget workgroup estimating that of what it needs this year. And that was before the Trump administration’s cuts to other federal agencies further pinched IHS. Slashes to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention last year initially included laying off nearly , and President Donald Trump’s proposed 2027 budget cuts more than $150 million for a in Native American tribes.

The nearest IHS facility is more than a two-hour drive to another state for most of the 55,000 Lumbee citizens in Robeson County. The county is one of the and has some of the .

A photo taken from the side of the road shows three signs. They read: "Welcome to North Carolina." "Welcome to Robeson County; first U.S. rural health department." "Home of the University of North Carolina at Pembroke."
Robeson County is mostly rural, agricultural land. Most of the members of the Lumbee Tribe live in the small towns of Lumberton and Pembroke, both about a half-hour drive from the South Carolina border. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

The Congressional Budget Office in 2022 estimated that the tribe could increase IHS spending by .

The tribe will have to rely on other revenue sources that are now allowed through recognition, such as a casino, to reverse the health disparities their people have faced for decades, Lumbee researchers said.

“None of us can depend on IHS alone, because we just don’t have the resources within that system,” said , a physician, a researcher at the Johns Hopkins Center for Indigenous Health, and a member of the Oglala Lakota tribe. “But it’s a great starting point.”

The IHS did not respond to questions about plans for the tribe’s health system. John Lowery did not respond to requests for an interview or a list of questions, but he said on a June podcast that he expected healthcare to be the .

Angie Lowery holds up a piece of jewelry she made.
Lowery makes beaded earrings, teaches culture classes, owns a gravestone business, and makes engravings in her Pembroke, North Carolina, shop. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A photo of a wall. On the left is a print of a painting of the Last Supper. On the right are prints of vintage advertisements: Merita bread, a red stamp featuring a Native American man wearing a headdress, and 7Up.
Antiques hang on Lowery’s walls at her home. She and her husband, Grant Hunt, are avid collectors. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

‘Not Just Statistics’

Eighteen years ago, , a doctor in Lumberton and a citizen of the tribe, was working at a nearby medical center. There, she said, she was taught that patients with certain last names “are often referred directly to cardiac catheterization,” a procedure to diagnose heart conditions.

Blackburn said she realized that common Lumbee surnames carried an expectation of disease.

“Nearly two decades later, I can tell you that reality has not changed,” she told assembled tribal leadership and citizens at a public hearing.

Robeson County’s rates of heart disease, diabetes, and continue to rank among the highest in the state, Blackburn noted. In 2025, were Medicaid enrollees, the highest percentage of all counties in the state.

“But these are not just statistics to me,” she said. “These are my patients. These are our families.”

A photo of a woman standing in her office.
Andrea Blackburn, a citizen of the Lumbee Tribe, is a physician in Robeson County. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

For Angie Lowery, breaking free from those statistics meant taking her health into her own hands.

She hopes a healthy diet is the answer to breaking her family’s cycle and living long enough to form relationships with her grandkids. And she brought the rest of the family with her. Her teenage daughter lost about 35 pounds. Two of her other children are now “health fanatics,” Lowery said.

Her granddaughter will be 2 in November. One Sunday morning in March, Lowery served up macaroni, cauliflower, and chickpeas for her as they spent the day together.

Lowery had supported building a casino, believing it would provide better education, infrastructure, and healthcare for her family.

“That vote, I’m thinking of my children’s future,” she said.

Angie Lowery stands next to rows of plants growing in rows in her backyard garden.
Lowery grows squash, onions, potatoes, and other produce in her backyard garden. Later this year, she’ll can some of the harvest for her family. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Casino Dreams in Limbo

Tribal citizens are deeply divided over how to reverse decades of economic decline that have led to poor living conditions, unaffordable health services, and chronic disease.

Four months after Trump signed the Lumbee Fairness Act — “I love the Lumbee Tribe” — tribal leaders gathered at a business meeting to take the first steps toward building a casino and establishing gaming as a new revenue source. Hundreds of federally recognized tribes across 29 states have used gaming as a source of revenue, in fiscal 2024, according to the latest report from the National Indian Gaming Commission.

The approach has been popular among tribal nations looking for more dollars to build up healthcare. The Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma in 1999 to build its own hospital, using roughly $25 million in gaming money, and the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians in western North Carolina funded its own hospital in 2015 mostly with $82 million in gaming funds.

But the Lumbee Tribe’s effort to establish a casino collapsed in June.

rejected a Lumbee constitutional amendment that would have allowed tribal leaders to create infrastructure needed for a gaming business. John Lowery said that he doesn’t plan on bringing back the initiative now that it was rejected “by the majority of Lumbee voters.” His term as chairman ends in two years.

An indoor photo shows a headshot of a John Lowery framed next to a sign that shows a rendering of a casino. Text above it reads, "Visit LumbeesChoose.com to learn more about the June 23rd Amendment vote."
A portrait of Lumbee Tribe Chairman John Lowery hangs beside a rendering of a proposed casino and resort meant to help bring in revenue for the newly federally recognized tribe. Citizens voted against the project. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Other funding sources to provide health services for the tribe could include gas stations or hotels, he said in a call with citizens before the vote.

Lumbee and other Native health researchers said they believe a twofold system — using IHS money and additional revenue — is necessary. Funds from gaming could compensate for what IHS can’t support.

Casinos’ impact on tribal health has been debated in research for decades. that the money from gaming helps tribes build more facilities, hire more doctors, and improve social services, but unhealthy substance use and smoking increase.

“There’s going to be negative impacts,” , a social work professor at the University of North Carolina and citizen of the Lumbee Tribe, said at a June panel discussion on gaming.

, 62, a Lumbee citizen and a researcher studying Native health at UNC, said the community has felt ripple effects from systemic racism, having not been acknowledged as a tribal nation for so long, and the economic downturn following the loss of Robeson County’s manufacturing and tobacco jobs.

That history plays a part in the health statistics in Robeson today, Bell said. But with federal recognition, he said, the Lumbee people have achieved a victory they’ve fought for since 1888.

“I think about the resilience of the Lumbee people and how they’ve gone through this 100-plus-year fight for federal recognition,” Bell said. “I sort of see that as a continuation of this resilience, and how now we have this opportunity with federal recognition to bring in resources to help address those issues.”

A photo of a large government building. In front of it are three flagpoles: on the left is the Lumbee Tribe flag; the American flag is in the center; the North Carolina flag is on the right.
The Lumbee Tribe government offices and citizen housing in Pembroke, North Carolina, stand amid long stretches of agricultural countryside. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Resolution and Uncertainty

Jada Brooks, a Lumbee citizen and UNC researcher who studies Indigenous health and lives in Robeson County, is conducting a study about heart health among Lumbee women. The initiative includes classes in which Lumbee women ages 18 to 50 signed up to discuss their health. That’s where she met Angie Lowery, who talked about her lifestyle changes with the group.

“I was just floored by, like, just the extent to which she went,” Brooks said.

She and other Lumbee researchers said federal recognition allows Lumbee citizens to be set apart in census data, paving a way to get clear information on heart health, cancer rates, diabetes diagnoses, and mental health risks.

“There’s challenges in even understanding the nuances of these complex health disparities, because a lot of data isn’t out there,” said Ryan Dial, a public health researcher at UNC and a member of the Lumbee Tribe.

But access and confidence may be the biggest barriers Lumbee people will have to overcome, Brooks said.

“I think what really matters is people feeling like they can trust the healthcare system.”

Brooks said she worried that a casino would encourage bad health habits, such as smoking and drinking.

“Let’s not create more problems for ourselves than we already have,” she said. She voted against the casino.

Like others in the tribe, Angie Lowery believes in her people’s power to help themselves, regardless of whether government steps in to help.

“Just because we’re federally recognized don’t mean that the doors are going to open up and money’s going to fall through the door like dirt,” she said.

A photo of Angie Lowery reading from sheets of paper stapled together. She is seated in the driver's seat of her car with the door open.
Angie Lowery sits in her Ford F-250 reading the Lumbee Constitution on a hot June day. The tribe secured federal recognition in December 2025. (Andrew Jones/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2259072 A Death Revives Concerns About Police Brutality Six Years After National Reckoning /public-health/police-brutality-mental-health-crisis-national-reckoning-sikeston-missouri/ Thu, 23 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2263026 SIKESTON, Mo. — Not everyone at Lloyd Gilmore’s funeral knew him well. One woman, who had ironed her clothes two days in advance, said she just wanted to be there for his family. School-age children, guided by their parents, approached his open casket in the sanctuary of Cornerstone Baptist Church and peeked inside. Other people looked away.

On that rainy Friday afternoon, hundreds of such mourners gathered to honor the man who went to the police department for help and didn’t come back.

“Stay woke. Stay guarded,” his daughter Lania Gilmore told the church full of mourners in this city of fewer than 16,000 with a long, troubled history of racial violence. “Be there for your family and love on one another.”

Her father, a 44-year-old Sikeston resident, died in police custody on June 10. During a quick, physical altercation involving seven Sikeston police officers, he was shocked with a Taser and put into hobble restraints, which allow officers to hogtie a person’s feet and hands, according to a through a public records request. Two autopsies were performed, but they — and Gilmore’s cause of death — had not been released as of mid-July while the result of a toxicology report remained pending.

Gilmore had approached an officer in the parking lot of the police station, according to the report, speaking words the officer said he could not understand. Lania Gilmore said that her dad, who had mental health issues, had asked her to call the police department and that he ran there seeking help.

“I kind of trusted the fact that he was OK because he was at the police station,” she told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

A man sits on a folder chair with his chin resting on his hand while he smiles up towards the camera.
Lloyd Gilmore, a 44-year-old Sikeston resident, had been looking for a safe space on the day he died, said his daughter Lania Gilmore. He told her to call the police department for help. Before he died, the police shocked him with a Taser and put him into hobble restraints. (Lania Gilmore)
Three adults, all in black, formal funeral attire, embrace each other.
Some of Lloyd Gilmore’s children embrace during his funeral on June 26 at Cornerstone Baptist Church in Sikeston. “Stay woke. Stay guarded,” his daughter Lania Gilmore (left) told the church full of mourners. “Be there for your family and love on one another.” (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A memorial plaque of Lloyd Gilmore.
A plaque is displayed during Lloyd Gilmore’s funeral. Hundreds of mourners gathered in his honor. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

At his funeral, hardly anyone spoke of the police — and, at the family’s request, the funeral home declined to ask police to provide traffic assistance as they usually would. A preacher did his best to comfort Gilmore’s family. “Sometimes we need not talk,” the Rev. Tommy Robinson Jr. told the crowd. “We just need to listen.”

But after years of expressing concerns of racial bias within the city’s police department, some Black Sikeston residents wonder if anyone is listening at all anymore. They want justice even as the national reckoning over police brutality has faded from public view.

“We need the police. We just need them to do their jobs correctly and leave Black people alone,” said Mark Wiggins, president of Sikeston’s NAACP branch. “They know it. We know it. The truth of the matter is there’s a lot of unwarranted cop killings of Black men in America.”

A man sits comfortably on a chair in front of his house.
Mark Wiggins, president of the local NAACP branch, sits outside his Sikeston, Missouri, home. Wiggins grew up in the city, which has a history of racial violence. After Lloyd Gilmore died in police custody on June 10, Wiggins protested alongside other residents and civil rights activists. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

But despite worldwide protests in 2020 in the wake of high-profile police-involved killings of Black people, the public paid little attention when a prestigious group released a report last year about deaths in custody, said Roger Mitchell Jr., a forensic pathologist finishing his term as president of the , which represents African American physicians. The urged Congress to require states to collect and report data on all in-custody deaths, a problem that Mitchell said disproportionately affects Black men.

“We are in an anti-diversity environment,” Mitchell said. “We’re in a war.”

Upon returning to the White House last year, President Donald Trump that targeted diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. As a result of that and other measures, funding for racial equity has dwindled, researchers who once studied violence as a public health issue have redirected their work to less politically charged topics, and a growing fear of professional and political retaliation has made it increasingly difficult to sustain the momentum.

Kevin Myles, a civil rights leader based in Georgia who has trained tens of thousands of activists around the country, said he saw a shift in priorities around racial equity before Trump was reelected. Since then, it has escalated, he said, and he has lost at least half his funding for his work on equity, child welfare, and mass incarceration.

“I don’t think we really were prepared. It’s not that we didn’t take it seriously. I don’t think we were psychologically prepared for what this means,” Myles said. “Everything we have done before now was practice. The game has just started.”

Sikeston, located in the rural area of southeastern Missouri known as the Bootheel, has a history of racial violence, including the brutal lynching of a Black man named Cleo Wright in 1942. Another Black man, Undraus Nabors, was found dead in a grain silo months after heading out to pick up his white girlfriend in 1999. In April 2020, less than a month before George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis, an unarmed Black man, Denzel Taylor, was shot at least 18 times by Sikeston police officers. The city was the subject of the 2024 “Silence in Sikeston” documentary film and podcast by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Retro Report, and WORLD.

Larry McClellon, a longtime Sikeston resident who founded a civil rights group called And Justice for All, has expressed concerns about the integrity of his city’s police department for decades. He’s also convinced that being vocal about racism in Sikeston comes with a price.

“It’s a dark side of Sikeston that a lot of people do not know and don’t prefer to know,” McClellon told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ in 2021 after police fatally shot Denzel Taylor. “But I’ve walked the streets.”

He believes someone burned down the headquarters of And Justice for All in 2019. A said the fire was “suspicious in nature.” The electricity in his building wasn’t on when flames erupted, he said, so he wasn’t satisfied when an investigator called it an electrical fire. He asked the department to take another look. No one was charged.

A photo showing a room damaged by fire.
The headquarters of And Justice for All, a civil rights advocacy group in Sikeston, was destroyed in a 2019 fire. A report from the city’s public safety department says the 2019 fire was “suspicious in nature.” Larry McClellon, a longtime Sikeston resident who founded the group, has expressed concerns about racial violence in the community. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

James McMillen, the city’s police chief, told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ in 2021 that he had plans to improve policing before Taylor died. At the time, McMillen, who is white, said he and his department had “a poor relationship” with Black residents in the city. He started some community meetings after Taylor’s death, but he said in 2024 that people had stopped showing up.

“We have tried,” the chief said during a this month. “But, as my daddy would say, a relationship is a two-way street. And so I don’t know what else I can do.”

During the meeting, Lania Gilmore pleaded with the city to release more information about her father’s case. Other residents wanted to know why the officers involved were not placed on administrative leave immediately after Gilmore died.

“It depends on the circumstances. It does,” McMillen told them. “You’re assuming a certain set of details that you don’t know.”

Another resident asked the city about training for officers. McMillen said his officers are trained. Nationwide, many communities have to assist people in crisis.

“Chief does not want anybody to be mistreated at all. Period,” Sikeston Mayor Greg Turnbow, who is white, said at the meeting. “And I guarantee you, I put my life in his hands. I’d do it today.”

McMillen declined to comment on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ questions about Gilmore’s case and the community’s concerns about the department. The Missouri State Highway Patrol investigated the death and planned to refer the results to the Cape Girardeau County prosecuting attorney, Sgt. Bradley Germann said.

A man and a woman stand side-by-side wearing matching custom T-shirts with a photo of Lloyd Gilmore.
Lloyd Gilmore’s friends Tawanna and Willie Wilson wore custom T-shirts to his funeral. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A man with his child stand beside an open casket.
Andre Young and his 5-year-old son view Gilmore’s body during the funeral. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A man leans over to hug a woman who is sitting in front of him. The woman gently touches a tissue to the man's face in an emotional moment.
Cynthia Gilmore sits in the front row of her son’s funeral at Cornerstone Baptist Church. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

The day Gilmore died, his daughter said, he had been anxious and was looking for a “safe space.” So, she said, he had spent much of the day watching her braid hair at the salon where she works, then he went with her to her eyelash extension appointment. Lania Gilmore said he was still feeling undone, but she needed some space, so he asked her to call the police instead. She said she did, then she watched him run toward the police station.

The rest unfolded within 30 minutes, according to the police report and . The police report said that, amid an ensuing scuffle, Gilmore bit one officer’s hand — “but did not break the skin.”

After the police stunned and restrained Gilmore, a paramedic gave him a sedative, and the emergency medical services took him to a hospital, according to the police report. The report listed five victims — all police — and accused Gilmore of third-degree assault and resisting arrest.

Lania Gilmore said police told her that her father overdosed. But she said she doesn’t understand how that would have been possible, given the short time between when he left her and an ambulance was called.

The city’s police force knew Gilmore had mental health issues, his daughter said. Police officers in a neighboring community “excessively tased” and beat him in 2020, . He received a $65,000 settlement five years later, and she said that experience left a mark.

After Gilmore died, Louis Houston, a longtime Sikeston resident, said he decided to move 30 minutes outside the city to a neighboring community, where he feels safer. He said hearing about other Black Sikeston residents being harassed by the police department had started to affect his mental health.

“I got on away from here,” said Houston, who returned to Sikeston for the funeral.

Louis Houston moved to Sikeston almost 20 years ago but recently decided to move away after Lloyd Gilmore died in police custody. He says the way the police department treats Black residents was affecting his mental health. (Cara Anthony/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Houston’s already thinking about the conversations he will have with his young children about how to respond if they ever interact with a police officer. He has a script in mind.

“Be careful,” Houston plans to tell them. “They can help you, but they also can kill you.”

Related Article

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2263026 Public Health Improvements Stall Amid Trump’s DEI Crackdown /public-health/epa-grants-public-health-improvements-stall-trump-dei-crackdown-georgia/ Thu, 23 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2260029 THOMASVILLE, Ga. — As Earl Williams drove through a historic Black neighborhood known as Dewey City in his hometown, he hardly recognized what he saw.

Homes that once belonged to friends, family, and neighbors had siding covered in mold. Some were boarded up. Others had holes in their roofs.

Black churches once used Oquina Creek, which runs along the border of the neighborhood, to baptize their congregants. Today, fecal bacteria and other contaminants have made the water unsafe due to an aging wastewater system.

“Sometimes you get the feeling like you’re in a Third World country,” Williams said. After three decades in Washington, D.C., he returned four years ago with a mission to revitalize communities such as Dewey City, which he said are “part of what makes Thomasville, Thomasville.”

A $19.8 million Community Change Grant from the Environmental Protection Agency was supposed to shift the tides of the neighborhood Williams grew up in.

The city and the , where Williams formerly served as community development director, applied for the grant in 2024. It was part of a $2 billion effort to help disadvantaged communities address environmental health risks and create clean energy and climate resiliency projects.

But three months after winning the grant, Thomasville became one of across the country — from to to — to see the funding stripped as priorities shifted in Donald Trump’s second presidency.

A view of creek with murky, brown water.
Black churches once baptized their congregants in Oquina Creek in Thomasville, Georgia. Today, fecal bacteria and other contaminants make the water unsafe. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A photo of a boarded up house surrounded by overgrown foliage.
Dilapidated houses are common in Dewey City, a historic Black neighborhood in Thomasville. Many residents don’t have the funds to mitigate issues with mold, asbestos, or lead paint. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

On the first day of his second term, Trump signed an executive order titled “.” It stated that the Biden administration “forced illegal and immoral discrimination” through diversity, equity, and inclusion programs.

In an emailed statement, EPA spokesperson Mike Bastasch said the administration is “fully committed to being a great steward of taxpayer dollars.” He added that the “radical agenda” of DEI and environmental justice “preferencing” are not within the agency’s core mission of protecting human health and the environment.

Environmental health advocates argue, though, that the decision to cut the grants was not rooted in science. They say that equating environmental justice to DEI is an act of bad faith and that withholding the money forces disenfranchised communities to delay long-overdue updates needed to protect public health for marginalized populations.

“I unfortunately believe we’re going to see a reversal in the health profile of this country,” said , an associate professor at the University of Michigan who served in the Biden administration as the first federal chief environmental justice officer.

“This current federal regime has decided that humanity and public health and justice don’t mean anything,” she said.

‘Why Us?’

Thomasville, near Georgia’s southwestern border, is home to just over 18,600 people.

The city had hoped to improve health outcomes in neighborhoods on its southern and western sides where, according to the grant proposal, “historical redlining created a legacy of disinvestment.”

Those areas have a deep history: Dewey City, for example, was the first neighborhood in the city where Blacks could build homes after the Civil War. It’s also home to the closed Douglass High School — the first public school for Blacks in Thomasville, established in 1902.

“This place has been neglected,” said Williams, who occasionally hosts historical walks through the community. “But it’s worth bringing it back online.”

The proposed “Restoring Resiliency” project featured a plan to remove toxic substances such as mold, lead paint, and asbestos from homes, repair a nearly 82-year-old wastewater system, and convert part of a shuttered high school band room into a health clinic.

A photo of Earl Williams pointing to an old high school building.
Williams points at the former Douglass High School campus, where a healthcare clinic and “resilience hub” was planned. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
An exterior photo of a brick building attached to a larger white building.
In a community of mostly older residents who rely on public transportation, a healthcare clinic planned for this building would have increased access to care and built trust, local advocates say. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

“This was a long and storied attempt to bend the arc of justice closer,” said Jeremy Rich, a Thomas County commissioner and the pastor at First Missionary Baptist Church. “Justice in healthcare. Justice in environmental impact.”

Having a clinic in the community would be a “game changer,” Rich said. During the covid pandemic, he said, older residents who rely on public transit were reluctant to go to the nearby hospital or the county health department to get vaccinated. When his church offered shots from Black nurses, he said, vaccination rates improved.

A Black man sits in an interior room. A placard, art print, and bookshelf are seen behind him.
The Rev. Jeremy Rich, a pastor, teacher, and Thomas County commissioner, says a clinic in the Dewey City neighborhood of Thomasville would have increased trust in healthcare providers. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Many residents don’t have the financial means to remove mold, lead paint, and other toxic materials, said Thomasville Mayor Pro Tem Lucinda Brown. “They just have money to live with every day. That’s it,” she said. “If they can make that happen.”

The grant meant hope, and its reversal left many asking, “Why us?” Williams said.

In the EPA’s May 2025 letter announcing the grant termination, it said Thomasville’s project promoted “initiatives that conflict with the Agency’s policy of prioritizing merit, fairness, and excellence.” The grant was “inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, Agency priorities,” the letter said.

Environmental justice projects are rooted in science, not DEI, said Jillian Blanchard, the senior vice president of climate change and environmental justice at , a national nonprofit that provides pro bono legal assistance in focus areas such as health equity, immigration, and environmental health.

“Where is the water dirty? Where is the air unclean?” she said. “That is where the money should go.”

In June of last year, nearly two dozen communities and organizations around the country filed a to get the Community Change Grants reinstated. The lawsuit argued that the projects — such as efforts to create energy-efficient housing in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and empower Houston residents in the pollution permitting process — were vital.

The case was dismissed by a federal district judge in 2025 but is being appealed.

Thomasville was not named in that lawsuit. But the city did appeal the EPA’s decision on its project with the support of Blanchard’s group. The city and the EPA continue to dispute the issue.

This March, the EPA’s deputy inspector general, which serves as an independent watchdog for the agency, concluding that the process for determining the awardees was fair.

Such federal funding is needed because large-scale change is difficult for small municipalities to achieve without getting stuck with high-interest loans, Blanchard said.

“It’s next to impossible,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons the things haven’t been done.”

A photo of a water tower with "Thomasville, Georgia" written on it.
Thomasville received nearly $20 million in federal money for improvement in areas like Dewey City. But months later, the Trump administration pulled the funds, citing shifting priorities. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

‘It’s Not Over’

The city of Thomasville has found other ways to make some improvements in the meantime. With the help of a nearly $3 million federal Community Development Block Grant from the Department of Housing and Urban Development, it made repairs to portions of Dewey City’s sewer, water, and drainage systems.

The Thomasville Community Development Corp. has begun building affordable housing in Dewey City and intends to convert a portion of the closed Douglass school into apartments for seniors.

The corporation has also applied for $764,000 in through the office of Sen. Jon Ossoff (D-Ga.) that it hopes to use to construct a community health clinic in Dewey City. Decisions on these funding requests will be made this fall.

“It’s not over,” said Williams, whose legacy in Thomasville runs deep. At the center of what locals call The Bottom — a two-block stretch of downtown where independent Black and other minority-owned businesses once thrived — is a plaque honoring his father, Earl Williams Jr., the city’s first Black mayor.

As he peered at his father’s memorial on a muggy afternoon, he reaffirmed his intentions.

“There’s more work to be done, and I’m able,” he said. “I like pouring into the community.”

But he has little hope the initial grant will be restored under the current administration.

“That was our shot. We didn’t do anything to miss it,” he said. “We just did it during the wrong period of time.”

A plaque on a brick wall with the name and biography of Rev. Earl Williams Jr. The plaque also has a bas-relief sculpture of Williams.
Williams came back to Thomasville after years away, in part to continue a legacy started by his father, Earl Williams Jr., who was Thomasville’s first Black mayor and first Black council member. (Briah Lumpkins/³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2260029 They Harvest the Nation’s Food, but a New Rule May Strip Them of Health Insurance /insurance/agricultural-workers-medicaid-eligibility-immigration-food-harvest/ Fri, 10 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2257673 Seasonal work. Inconsistent hours. Frequent moves. Cash payments and informal jobs. For farmworkers who rely on Medicaid, these common employment patterns could put their health coverage at risk.

It’s a heightened concern for the estimated who are U.S. citizens or legal permanent residents, as new work requirements kick in for the federal-state healthcare program that serves low-income and disabled Americans.

Starting next year in most states, many adults enrolled in Medicaid will have to prove they work, are enrolled in college or vocational courses, volunteer, or do unpaid work for at least .

Advocates say this could pose a significant challenge to Medicaid-eligible farmworkers, who frequently work more than 80 hours a month during harvest season but less in other months. What’s more, outside the harvest season, many workers take on informal jobs in construction, landscaping, or home repair for which they don’t receive formal paychecks that would prove their continuing Medicaid eligibility. Still, they can establish eligibility if they prove their average monthly income over six months is equivalent to at least 80 hours of work at the federal minimum wage.

“Having a work requirement — having to create more paperwork and more proof — is certainly extremely challenging for farmworkers and others who are low-income and who may especially have seasonal jobs, not year-round, and do have periods” when there is no work available, said Alexis Guild, vice president of strategy and programs at .

New Requirements, Additional Hurdles

Agriculture is a , and Americans to put food on their tables. Nearly 60% of those workers are U.S. citizens or green-card holders, according to the . The remaining 40% lack legal status or are otherwise ineligible for Medicaid.

Even among farmworkers with citizenship or legal status, the uninsured rate is three times that of the general population, and most farmworkers with insurance are Medicaid beneficiaries, although participation rates vary by state. According to a , 71%-79% of eligible farmworker households report participation in Medicaid.

The new Medicaid work requirements were a key provision of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act signed last July by President Donald Trump. Under the federal law, and the District of Columbia must implement the requirements by Jan. 1. A few states have the work rule early.

The 80-hour rule applies in states that expanded Medicaid, a process that began in 2014 and was tied to the Affordable Care Act. Following the initial expansions, agricultural workers with legal documentation became to have health insurance, according to a 2021 article in the American Journal of Agricultural Economics.

Immigration Anxieties

The work requirements are the latest in a long list of obstacles placed between workers and the healthcare they’re legally entitled to, Guild said. “Medicaid certainly helps because it alleviates the cost issue,” she said. “But there are still other barriers, such as transportation, taking sick leave, and finding time to visit a health center. All these factors can prevent them from actually receiving medical care.”

For farmworkers with green cards and naturalized U.S. citizens, there is another source of stress: the fear that signing up for Medicaid could put personal information in the hands of immigration authorities.

That’s what worries Luis, a 45-year-old green-card holder and Medicaid recipient who dreams of becoming a U.S. citizen. Luis — who asked to be identified by only his middle name — lives with his wife and daughter in North Carolina, where he has worked in agriculture for nearly a decade.

Speaking in Spanish, he said that when he learned about the work requirements, he knew it would be challenging for him to prove that he works 80 hours a month. “I only work on farms for six or seven months; the rest of the year I work in whatever I can find,” he said.

Republicans in Congress argue that work requirements will reduce federal healthcare spending, encourage nondisabled adults to , and preserve safety net resources for the most vulnerable populations.

Among Hispanic adults enrolled in Medicaid, 67% are already working, according to a 2025 .

The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services did not respond to requests for comment for this article. But in June, when its “nationwide framework” to implement the Medicaid work requirements, Administrator Mehmet Oz said it would help beneficiaries “build skills and independence through work, education, job training, or community service, creating new opportunities for themselves and their families.” Federal officials say the new requirements “could reduce poverty by as much as 2.9 million people.”

Chronic Illness

Agricultural work is one of the nation’s , and it is associated with and , including respiratory conditions. A found that 37% of male farmworkers and 47% of female farmworkers in the state had at least one chronic health condition. The new work requirements present one more barrier for those seeking care, advocates said.

“People skip checkups and screenings, and conditions that could be caught early and treated cost-effectively” aren’t, said Adriana Cadena, executive director of .

Emergency rooms often become the “natural” place to go for healthcare, Cadena added. “This drives up waiting times and costs for all of us. … And when people are sick enough that they miss work, it starts a vicious cycle of lost productivity and family economic instability that again threatens all of us.”

A Loss for Families and Children

The new federal rules also require beneficiaries to verify their eligibility at least twice a year, twice as often as previously, creating another potential obstacle.

“Letters can easily be missed, and forms may go unfilled. If people get caught up in the paperwork, they could lose coverage,” said , an assistant vice president at , a nonprofit that promotes an equitable healthcare system.

For farmworkers who travel from state to state, the process can be especially difficult.

“You have to find the time to transfer your coverage and probably find a person or organization that can help you — and that can be really hard when you’re constantly moving,” Cadena said.

The situation highlights the difficulties of navigating a complex system for individuals and families already struggling to make ends meet.

“The result,” Cadena said, “could be the loss of coverage not only for workers, but also for their families and children.”

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2257673 He Dreamed of Becoming a Physician Assistant. New Loan Rules May Thwart Him. /health-industry/physician-assistant-professional-graduate-degrees-student-loan-limits/ Tue, 30 Jun 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2255466 Benjamin Pinckney, 46, has dreamed of becoming a physician assistant since just after his 20th birthday.

He had been targeted by a drive-by shooter in Jacksonville, Florida, and hospitalized with two gunshot wounds. During his weeklong hospitalization, he said, a physician assistant changed the course of his life by visiting his hospital bed each day and warning him that Black men with gunshot wounds often end up paralyzed — or worse.

“I used to run the streets, you know, on the wrong sides of the track,” Pinckney said. “He made me promise that I would never come into his ER that way again. That was the last conversation we had, right before I was discharged.”

His goal since then has been to become a physician assistant. Pinckney, who spent most of his career working for New York City’s Department of Sanitation and as an Army Reserve medic, recently took a step toward achieving it. In May, he graduated with departmental honors from Lehman College with a Bachelor of Science degree.

After moving from New York to Prince George’s County, Maryland, he’d planned on applying for physician assistant school this year. But now, he’s worried his dream may be thwarted by new student loan rules.

Starting July 1, the amount of money graduate students will be allowed to borrow from the federal government . The new student loan limits are part of the GOP’s tax-and-spending legislation known as the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which President Donald Trump signed into law last year.

The caps are intended to curb the cost of higher education and student loan debt, according to the Trump administration.

But critics widely agree the new limits are too low, especially for students allowed to borrow only $20,500 a year in federal loans due to the law’s controversial definition of a “professional degree.” On June 24, a federal judge temporarily blocked the Department of Education from enforcing that definition. Still, for many students, the new caps won’t cover the combined cost of tuition, housing, and living expenses.

This could leave hundreds of thousands of students who borrow money for graduate school each year at the mercy of private lenders with higher interest rates and fewer repayment options.

Benjamin Pinckney holds a clear crate labeled "PA School Starter Kit."
Pinckney wants to go to graduate school to become a physician assistant but doesn’t know how he will finance his education as new student loan limits go into effect. (Erica S. Lee for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
A man holds a diploma case with the logo of Lehman College on it.
Pinckney earned his Bachelor of Science degree from Lehman College this spring. (Erica S. Lee for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)
Inside Pinckney's "PA School Starter Kit": a stethoscope, a medical notebook, a set of highlighters, scissors.
Pinckney estimates he paid at least 90% of his undergraduate tuition out-of-pocket. (Erica S. Lee for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Some experts and students also worry that the limits will threaten efforts to diversify the healthcare workforce by deterring minorities and people from low-income households from applying to graduate programs. A drop in incoming students could worsen existing rural and primary care shortages, they argue.

Many politicians and loan experts have acknowledged that the cost of higher education needs to be addressed. But the new federal loan limits are “just not going to achieve that goal,” said Todd Pickard, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, one of several organizations that have sued the Department of Education over the rules.

“It’d be like if you had a hangnail and I cut your whole arm off instead of just taking care of your hangnail,” Pickard said. “The treatment doesn’t match the problem.”

‘A Rock and a Hard Place’

Students working toward what the law describes as “professional degrees” — including trainee doctors, dentists, pharmacists, and chiropractors — will be allowed to borrow up to $200,000 total, and no more than $50,000 a year.

Meanwhile, the median cost of attending a public medical school is nearly $300,000 over four years, while the median cost of a private medical school education exceeds $400,000, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges.

The caps were set even lower for those pursuing other “graduate” degrees, who face a $100,000 borrowing limit for federal loans over the course of their degree programs. The annual limit for this category of students is only $20,500. Students pursuing physical therapy, physician assistant, and nursing degrees were originally included in this group. But according to new guidance issued by the Department of Education on June 29, some of these students will at least temporarily be able to borrow up to the higher limit, .

The Department of Education, which has been sued by clinician trade groups and about two dozen states over the new rules, did not respond to questions for this article.

As the law was written, a physician assistant student who completed their degree within the average two to three years would not have been eligible to borrow the full $100,000. Meanwhile, physician assistants typically start their careers with an average debt of $112,000, meaning some could be forced to finance their education with higher-interest private loans.

“I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place,” said Olivia Trull, 24, who is scheduled to begin the physician assistant program at Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, this summer. The 28-month program costs $137,000, with about $62,000 in tuition and fees estimated for the first year, she said. That doesn’t include living expenses.

Before the court order, Trull said she qualified for the maximum annual allotment under the new rules of $20,500 in federal loans during her first year of graduate school. The balance would need to be financed through a private lender.

She anticipated she would need up to $100,000 in private loans to finance her graduate degree and would face loan payments of more than $3,000 a month when she was done.

“I have to actually sit down and have a conversation with myself,” Trull said, to consider “if I want to be drowning in debt for the next 10 years of my life.” One private bank offered her a loan with an interest rate of nearly 14%, she said.

Pinckney, who said he finished his undergraduate degree with about $10,000 in federal student loan debt, said some of his friends who have already applied for private student loans have been quoted interest rates as high as 13%. Meanwhile, interest rates for federal loans for graduate students, which are set annually, are currently about 8-9%. Federal loans also offer more flexible repayment options than private loans typically do.

In May, 25 states and the District of Columbia against the Department of Education over the new rules. The complaint described the law’s “professional degree” definition as “arbitrary and capricious.”

In a separate filed in June, the American Academy of Physician Associates and the PA Education Association alleged that the new rules deny students the loan amounts needed to attend physician assistant schools. They argue that PA students should be able to access the higher loan limits available to students in medical school and other professional degree programs. (While “physician assistant” and “physician associate” typically refer to the same role, the AAPA in 2021 because of “concern that ‘assistant’ does not reflect the important role of PAs in delivering high-quality healthcare to patients.”)

Meanwhile, Trump administration officials have contended the cost of graduate school is too high across the board. Education Secretary Linda McMahon, speaking before a House committee in May about the new limits, said, “It is our overall goal to bring down the cost of college and education.”

Indeed, some experts acknowledge that the new limits may be helpful in bringing down costs. The federal Grad PLUS loan program, established by Congress 20 years ago, did not cap the amount graduate students could borrow in federal loans. That program was eliminated in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

“There is considerable evidence that people borrowed more than they really needed to go to school,” said Sandy Baum, a higher education economist and a senior fellow at the Urban Institute.

Already, some graduate programs have lowered tuition prices, Baum said. In May, for example, the it would lower the cost of its MBA programs by tens of thousands of dollars to fall below the new federal lending thresholds.

And yet Baum doesn’t anticipate many other schools will follow suit.

“I don’t think we’re going to see some dramatic decline in prices,” she said. “I think some programs could close down because they can’t manage.”

‘Tears Have Been Shed’

The new lending limits will also disproportionately affect Black students, Baum said, because they have historically borrowed more than white and Hispanic students.

For some students who borrowed money to finance their undergraduate degrees, the new limits will hit especially hard. Under the new rules, they will be subject to a lifetime limit of $257,000 in federal student loans.

“There will be students who can’t enroll,” Baum said.

Andrei Robu, 26, a medical student at the Medical University of South Carolina, leads the Financial Literacy Interest Group on the Charleston campus. He said many of his peers are worried that the lending limits will make the student body less diverse.

He is also concerned that, because the demand for acceptance into medical school is already so high, schools could prioritize entrance for students from wealthy backgrounds and “still fill up their classes.”

“That’s just not what we want in our physician workforce,” said Robu, who isn’t subject to the new rules as a current student. “We want to represent the population of the country at large.”

Jasmine Vasquez, 26, who has been accepted into the physician assistant program at South College in Atlanta, decided to defer her enrollment until 2027, partly to see if her financing options change. She is worried about taking on too much debt from a private bank.

“Tears have been shed multiple times,” said Vasquez, who is due to give birth in September. “It’s nothing that’s within my control.”

Betsy Mayotte, president of the Institute for Student Loan Advisors, expects the new rules will force some graduates into bankruptcy when they can’t afford to repay private loans.

First, though, she expects enrollment numbers to drop and some graduate programs to close because they can’t recruit enough students. Completion rates will also drop, she expects, as students run into federal loan limits partway through their degree programs.

Beyond that, she predicts healthcare graduates will seek jobs in high-paying specialties, exacerbating shortages in rural and underserved communities.

“They’re going to go where they can make the most money,” Mayotte said.

Benjamin Pinckney stands outside. He is holding his graduation gown and has his graduation cords draped over his neck.
Pinckney has spent most of his career working for New York City’s Department of Sanitation. But he has dreamed of becoming a physician assistant since he was treated for gunshot wounds at a Jacksonville, Florida, hospital in 1999. (Erica S. Lee for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Pinckney said he is “not really sure” what the future holds. He paid for most of his undergraduate education by working while he was in school, but that’s typically not possible for full-time physician assistant students.

He has considered applying to a biomedical science graduate program instead, which he estimated would cost about $30,000 — an amount that’s “a lot more doable,” he said. It would allow him to potentially work in a lab or in pharmaceuticals, he said. It’s still aligned with medicine, he said, but it wouldn’t help him realize his goal of working with patients.

“Maybe this thing will blow over,” he said of the new federal loan limits. In the meantime, he’s holding out hope.

“If I can influence one person’s life, that would be my way of paying him forward for what he did,” he said, referring to the physician assistant who inspired him back in 1999. “It’s very hard to pivot from that dream.”

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2255466 Florida Hospitals Act Fast To Discharge Gun Victims — Especially if They’re Not Insured /public-health/florida-hospitals-guns-gunshot-firearm-wounds-uninsured-discharge-data-analysis/ Mon, 29 Jun 2026 09:00:00 +0000 /?p=2253271 Alea Bates wasn’t ready to leave Tallahassee Memorial HealthCare’s main hospital four days after a stranger shot her seven times at close range. Miraculously, hospital records show, none of the bullets damaged her internal organs.

But after surgery, Bates said, she couldn’t get out of bed or walk to the bathroom without help. She complained of intense pain radiating down her left leg, weakness in her knee, and a numbing sensation below it, according to hospital records. Bates, who worked as an Uber Eats driver, didn’t have the strength to drive a car.

Still, Bates said, the hospital told her it was time to go.

“They didn’t do any further X-rays or CTs or MRIs to figure out why my knee was numb,” she said. “And they were just like, you know, ‘It’ll go away.’”

Doctors said she was medically stable, Bates said, and because she had no health insurance, they could not send her to a rehabilitation hospital or a skilled nursing facility, which can charge thousands of dollars a day for such care.

“They were just like, We need the bed for somebody who has insurance,” she said. “That’s of course, you know, what they say without saying it.”

At least one firearm injury is treated in an American emergency room every . Tens of thousands die from their injuries every year. Many more, like Bates, are left to face long recoveries, steep medical debt, and enduring trauma.

How insurance affects the care of gunshot wound victims has remained shrouded in mystery — until now, due to a new analysis by The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ of data that Florida hospitals compile to collect payments from insurance companies and file with the state.

When uninsured patients arrive at hospitals in Florida with gunshot wounds, on average they spend significantly fewer days in the hospital — in some cases half the time — than those with health insurance, according to the data analysis.

Among the most severely injured patients, the uninsured stayed three fewer days in the hospital on average than their counterparts with insurance.

A dot plot showing the average hospital stay of gunshot wound patients admitted to Florida hospitals, grouped by hospital, and uninsured vs. private insurance vs. medicaid. Sorted by shortest average uninsured stay.

Uninsured Gunshot Wound Patients Stay Fewer Days Than Those With Insurance at Many Hospitals

A dot plot showing the average hospital stay of gunshot wound patients admitted to Florida hospitals, grouped by hospital, and uninsured vs. private insurance vs. medicaid. Sorted by shortest average uninsured stay.

◆◆Top three by gunshot wound patients admitted, 2018-2024

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration,<br>The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis

The data was obtained exclusively for this reporting on gun violence hospitalizations in the state, aided by Florida state law.

The newsrooms spent more than a year analyzing the records, which did not identify patients. The data contained patients’ insurance status, their residential ZIP code, their race, and other demographic info. Reporters reviewed academic studies and government documents and interviewed health policy experts, doctors, activists, and victims of gun violence or their relatives.

The results are a first-of-its-kind look at what happens to the insured and the uninsured who are shot and admitted to the hospital for treatment.

Across Florida, the analysis of hospital billing data from 2018 to 2024 obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration shows:

  • Uninsured patients make up a quarter of the more than 20,000 gunshot wound hospitalizations identified, making them the largest single group treated for firearm injuries.
  • Uninsured gunshot victims had hospital stays of about six days on average, only three-quarters of the time spent by patients with private insurance and less than half the average stay for patients on traditional Medicaid, the public health insurance program for poor and disabled people.
  • The gap in hospital care persisted regardless of hospital size, location, or ownership type, including at facilities that receive taxpayer money with a mandate to treat all patients regardless of their ability to pay.
  • Of the gunshot wound patients, nearly half were Black, making the group highly overrepresented. About a quarter of nonwhite patients were uninsured, versus fewer than a fifth of white patients.

The inequality echoes a in U.S. healthcare against Black and Latino patients, groups that and a .

The U.S. has deaths than other wealthy nations, and no group suffers more than Black Americans like Bates. Black people are far to become victims of a firearm homicide than white people, according to the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Five handguns rest on a glass shelf at a gun shop.
Handguns for sale at a gun shop in Delray Beach, Florida. Florida law allows eligible residents to carry a concealed firearm and to openly carry a firearm without a state-issued license. (Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

Patient outreach workers say hospital personnel might perceive gunshot victims as gang members or troublemakers who deserve blame for getting shot. rehab centers refuse to admit gunshot victims more often than other patients, and some medical records from hospitals were littered with racist or insensitive descriptions of patients and their behavior.

The damage can be lasting: Patients who after a traumatic injury have a higher risk of serious complications, including infection, hemorrhage, nerve damage, and death, especially if wounds — and mental health concerns — are left untreated.

, a University of Florida professor and vice chair for research in community health and family medicine, said there’s evidence that financial incentives drive care — for patients and for hospitals.

Regardless of how often the care team is told to follow quality protocols, Mainous said, “ultimately there’s a business aspect to it, whether the physician is thinking about it or not, whether the nurses think about it or not. But somebody is.”

The Florida data findings come at a time when Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis and state lawmakers have pushed to make guns cheaper and more widely available, despite a in the state from 2014 to 2023, and when President Donald Trump’s administration has rolled back legislation from the Joe Biden presidency to curb gun violence and .

Ron DeSantis examines a Thompson submachine gun at a gun shop during his presidential run in 2023. A crowd of people watch behind him.
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis at a Hooksett, New Hampshire, gun shop in 2023. DeSantis has pushed to make guns cheaper and more widely available, despite a 19% increase in gun deaths in Florida from 2014 to 2023. (Sophie Park/Bloomberg via Getty Images)

allows eligible residents to carry a concealed firearm and to openly carry a firearm without a state-issued license. State law also prevents cities and counties from enacting stricter gun control measures.

In early June, Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier to strike down the state’s three-day waiting period for receiving a purchased gun, arguing it is unconstitutional. Uthmeier’s request is part of a proposed settlement of a lawsuit brought by the National Rifle Association.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and The Trace requested to speak with administrators at nine of Florida’s large hospital systems to ask why the disparities exist. None agreed to an interview.

Sarah Cannon, communications director at Tallahassee Memorial HealthCare, would not agree to an interview or address Bates’ account of her care for gunshot injuries.

“Clinical decisions, including acute medical intervention, readiness for discharge, and post-acute care needs, are guided by the patient’s condition and response to treatment,” she said in an email.

Cannon said the hospital offers support to patients after discharge, including from social workers who coordinate care and access to services including post-acute care placement, home healthcare, and primary care or specialty follow-up.

Bates said she had to coordinate her own care after being released from the hospital. She said nobody called to schedule a follow-up test of her leg’s muscle function, and her medical records show she did not receive one.

“If I had had insurance,” she said, “they would have definitely kept me there for at least another week to work with me on my standing and walking.”

An exterior photo of Tallahassee Memorial Hospital.
Tallahassee Memorial Hospital, where Bates was admitted after being shot seven times in 2019. She was discharged after four days. (Miguel J. Rodríguez Carrillo/Getty Images)

‘It’s a Business’

Some of Florida’s largest hospitals showed huge differences in length of stay for gun injuries, the ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ-Trace analysis showed. In Miami at Jackson Memorial, the average number of days in the hospital for uninsured patients was 6.6; for those with private insurance, it was 10.7; and for those on traditional Medicaid, it was 15.4. Jackson Memorial did not respond to requests for comment.

Tampa General Hospital reported 4.9 days for uninsured patients, 8 days for those with private insurance, and 13.6 days for Medicaid patients. “To suggest that care decisions for trauma-related patients, and in this case, gun shot victims, are influenced by insurance status is not only absurd, it’s inaccurate,” Amanda Bevis, a hospital spokesperson, said in a written statement. “At Tampa General, every patient is treated equally, based on clinical need and urgency, not insurance coverage.”

And at UF Health Jacksonville, it was 7.2 days for the uninsured, 8.5 days for the privately insured, and 13.8 days for patients on traditional Medicaid. UF Health declined to comment.

Broward Health in Fort Lauderdale reported 7.5 days for uninsured patients, 10.5 days for privately insured patients, and 12.2 days for those on traditional Medicaid. “Insurance status does not impact treatment plans for patients,” Jennifer Smith, a Broward Health spokesperson, said in an email. “Our physicians always proceed in the best interest of the patient regardless of reimbursement or what length of stay may be required.”

Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood reported 6.7 days for uninsured patients, 8.8 days for privately insured patients, and 9.5 days for those on traditional Medicaid. Tania Ordaz, a hospital spokesperson, said in an email that she disagreed with the findings: “Treatment decisions are based on the patient’s clinical condition and what is necessary to ensure a safe and appropriate transition of care, not on the patient’s insurance status.”

A bubble map of Florida hospitals sized by number of gun shot wound patients. The top three hospitals are orange, the rest are blue. Selecting a bubble displays the average stay for these patients by payer type: uninsured, commercial insurance and Medicaid.

Shorter Stays for Uninsured Gunshot Wound Patients at Dozens of Florida Hospitals

A bubble map of Florida hospitals sized by number of gun shot wound patients. The top three hospitals are orange, the rest are blue. Selecting a bubble displays the average stay for these patients by payer type: uninsured, commercial insurance and Medicaid.

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration, <br>The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis

Trauma surgeons and academics said the Florida data aligns with research nationwide on where gun violence occurs and who’s most affected. Some said they fear the differences contribute to long-standing disparities in America’s healthcare system along the lines of race and class.

The Florida hospital data showed gunshot injuries are concentrated in a handful of ZIP codes marked by poverty, disinvestment, redlining, and other injustices stemming from racial discrimination.

“Why would people without insurance be discharged earlier?” Mainous said. “Because they’re in better health? I think we’ve got a lot of data that would suggest that’s not true.”

Once they leave the hospital, people with commercial insurance or traditional Medicaid are more than twice as likely to receive follow-up care from another provider — such as a rehab center or home health service — as uninsured patients.

Those patients are staying longer, in part, because hospital case managers coordinate their transfers to other facilities, which can be time-consuming and take days.

“You have to go through insurance authorization and approval,” said , a trauma surgeon formerly at Jackson Memorial in Miami who now practices in Oregon. He said patients with private insurance might have access to rehab, preventive care, and training for both the patient and their caregiver to “help them transition to a completely new phase of life.”

For patients without insurance, he said, “sometimes our hands are a little bit tied.”

“The hospital is telling us that this patient has to leave the hospital because they’re medically ready,” he said, “and so I guess we’re discharging them to their car or to their tent, and it doesn’t feel right, but I think that would probably explain some of the differences” in length of stay.

, a trauma surgeon at Jackson Memorial, said hospital staff work to ensure that uninsured patients with long recoveries learn to care for wounds and to enlist family help at home.

Valenzuela said the county-owned hospital does not send uninsured patients home to fend for themselves. She goes into neighborhoods and follows up with patients as part of a Miami-Dade County violence intervention program, whose social workers help them access food, employment, and more to heal and feel safe.

“We know that full recovery is beyond just the hospital and even the rehab centers, even the best ones,” Valenzuela said, pointing to housing and navigating the healthcare system as factors.

runs the Miami-Dade program, which connects victims of gun violence with social workers who visit bedside at the hospital and an intensive care unit-trained nurse who visits at home to provide wound care and other services.

Rawlins said young, Black gunshot patients without health insurance are often at a loss when they leave the hospital about how to schedule a follow-up appointment or manage their mental health.

“After they have been shot and they’re getting out of the hospital and they’re still in crisis,” he said, “their concern is more: How am I going to now pay the rent? How am I going to live? Who’s going to take care of me?”

Often, he said, his uninsured clients leave the hospital before they are ready.

“That’s the reality of it: It’s a business,” he said. “It’s like a hotel. You know, checkout time: You got to go. We got to make room for someone, for a next customer.”

How Long Is Long Enough?

Alea Bates said the hospital discharged her with crutches and one prescription: a seven-day supply of the painkiller Percocet.

A family member drove Bates home. She wore a leg brace, with bandages on her back, stomach, hand, forearm, and feet. When she tried to get out of the car, Bates said, her knee gave and she fell.

Surgeons, health policy experts, and researchers say physicians follow evidence-based best practices for treating gunshot wounds and that a shorter hospital stay does not necessarily reflect a lower-level of care.

, an assistant professor of surgery at the University of Pennsylvania who conducts research on violence reduction, offered one explanation.

In published in The Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery, Kaufman and colleagues found that patients who were admitted while uninsured but then enrolled in Medicaid during their hospitalization — and who needed ongoing rehabilitative care after discharge — spent more time in the hospital and had higher costs.

“I have personally been in situations where I felt like I did the best I could for a patient, but they would say, ‘You’re kicking me out,’” she said. “Sometimes, what the doctor is telling you doesn’t match what you are feeling in your body.”

But Kaufman said: “I’m not going to tell you hospitals never discriminate. That would not be realistic. I would say it is more indirect.”

A box and whisker plot of admitted gunshot wound patient stays in Florida by insurance payer type. Uninsured patients have the shortest average stays.

Uninsured Florida Gunshot Patients Discharged Fastest

A box and whisker plot of admitted gunshot wound patient stays in Florida by insurance payer type. Uninsured patients have the shortest average stays.

<br>

Florida Agency for Health Care Administration,<br>The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis

Kaufman said she couldn’t judge whether Bates stayed in the hospital long enough because she was not her doctor. Still, she said, Bates “didn’t get what she needed from our healthcare system.”

Unlike many states, Florida excludes most single adults without children, like Bates, from Medicaid eligibility, making it exceedingly uncommon for a Medicaid patient to have been admitted as an uninsured adult.

Gunshot survivors endure bleeding and oozing flesh wounds and pain, and they experience . “These experiences are common, but they are not talked about,” Kaufman said. “Mental health is part of the recovery process.”

Recovering the ability to walk or use an arm or a leg after a gunshot wound requires rehab and physical therapy that can be out of financial reach for uninsured patients, said , a pediatric surgeon and an associate professor at the University of Maryland who that uninsured patients hospitalized for traumatic injuries have shorter stays than insured patients.

A photo of Bates' right thumb, with stitches.
Bates was shot seven times at close range — twice in the back and once each in the pelvis, stomach, left forearm, right thumb, and right foot. (Alea Bates)
An image of Bates' left forearm showing a wound sewn up with stitches.
Bates took this photo of her left forearm after surgery. (Alea Bates)

A shorter stay, he said, “suggests that these patients are not getting the same level of care, and that’s going to put them at risk for functional deficits down the road.”

He said it is impossible to arrive at a set number of days that any patient should remain in a hospital. Factors include the severity of their injury, their age, and any other illnesses they have.

“We’re looking for that Goldilocks length of stay,” Englum said, “and unfortunately, it is not perfectly defined for any specific admission, and it’s not perfectly defined for any specific patient.”

‘Oh, Shit. He Shot Me.’

An image of a breezeway with blood on the ground. Nine yellow evidence markers are placed in various spots on the ground.
Police found Bates lying on the ground in the breezeway of an apartment building the night she was shot seven times after making a food delivery in December 2019. Crime scene photos documented blood and bullet casings from the assault. (Tallahassee Police Department)

Bates had delivered her last order for the night when she was shot. It was December 2019: As she was walking back to her car, she heard two loud bangs. Just kids playing pranks, she thought to herself. Then she turned toward the sound and saw a gun pointed at her.

“In that split second it registered in my mind, like, ‘Oh, shit. He shot me,’” Bates said. “I had some brief, like, burning, but it wasn’t registering in my brain right away what it was.”

Within seconds, Bates said, the stranger emptied the clip of his handgun into her body, even after she fell to the ground. He shot her seven times — twice in the back and once each in the pelvis, stomach, left forearm, right thumb, and right foot.

Bates screamed. She reached for her cellphone to call 911. She said residents came out of their apartments. Someone took her phone to tell the emergency dispatcher the address. Another person pressed towels on her wounds to slow the bleeding. An ambulance rushed her to Tallahassee Memorial.

Yellow crime scene tape blocks the entrance to an apartment complex breezeway.
Bates had descended the stairs of an apartment complex and was walking back to her car when a stranger opened fire. (Tallahassee Police Department)
A close-up photo of a window with a bullet hole and fractured glass.
A bullet hole in the bedroom window of an apartment near the breezeway where Bates was shot in 2019. (Tallahassee Police Department)

Bates said she did not believe race was a factor in the care she received. But she believed that the circumstances surrounding her shooting — that it happened while she was working, and that she did not know the shooter — affected the way doctors and nurses viewed her.

Language in medical records can sometimes signal a bias in clinicians and perpetuate differences in care that patients receive, said , an associate professor at the Boston University School of Public Health who conducts research on exposure to gun violence.

Jay said bias based on patients’ race, income, or insurance status can deny some people necessary treatment once they leave the hospital.

He said his research suggests the healthcare system treats gunshot survivors and motor vehicle accident victims differently based on perceptions of “whether the victim was in no way at fault. They made assumptions when a person was violently shot.”

“The results are consistent with what we hear so much from hospital outreach workers for gunshot victims,” he said. “They say there is substantial bias. There is an assumption that they contributed to their condition with risky behavior.”

The preoperative notes in Bates’ medical records describe her as “a pleasant 39-year-old female who sustained multiple gunshot wounds to her abdomen, pelvis and extremities last night after performing Uber Eats delivery.”

Bates said it mattered to her caregivers what she was doing when she was shot.

“The nurses and doctors, they all talk about that stuff,” she said. “They were like, ‘Oh, my God, you were ambushed. That’s so scary.’

“I was working. Like, I don’t know these people. And the fact that they were teenagers, I think that that is what maybe changed the narrative,” she said. “Because I feel a lot of times people blame you for what happened.

“But when I was asked and I told them what happened and my story and how I got there,” she said, “I think just the shock in people’s eyes of like, ‘Oh, my God. So you really were, like, you know, minding your business.’”

She added: “And it also wasn’t in a sketchy part of town, if I can just say that. I was in a predominantly white complex. So I think that’s what saved me.”

Alea Bates stands in her backyard with her arms crossed.
Bates was uninsured when surgeons removed bullets and fragments from her body after a stranger shot her seven times. She went home from the hospital after four days with about $60,000 in bills. (Alicia Devine for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

‘Less Than a Human Being’

Bates had received care at the hospital before as an insured patient.

She had lost her job in the legal department of a state agency — along with her insurance — two months before she was shot.

As an uninsured patient, Bates said, “they kind of just dismiss you. It makes you feel like less than a human being.”

She said she felt ignored when she told doctors she didn’t feel safe going home after four days. She said the physical therapist working with her at the hospital had persuaded the facility to let her stay an extra day.

“We would like, as a medical community, I think as a society, to see everybody get the same care,” said Englum, the University of Maryland trauma surgeon. “Regardless of what color their skin is, what insurance status they have — we want them to get appropriate care.”

The reason for racial or ethnic differences in care is hard to tease out, Englum said. Is it that there’s mistrust of the medical system in some Black and Latino communities, leading people to avoid going to rehab because they don’t want to be there? Is it an income issue? Is it that medical providers see some patients and, due to implicit or explicit bias, think, “That’s as good as they’re going to get?”

“Getting that care is what you need to get your full functional outcome back. And if you’re not getting it,” he said, “patients are suffering that didn’t have to.”

At home, Bates said, she depended on family members to help her out of bed, drive her places, even help her feel safe out in public.

“I really didn’t know how to stand or move or walk around,” she said. “I had to figure it out.”

She still fears loud noises, which remind her of being shot. Bates said she and her dog stay indoors on July Fourth and New Year’s Eve.

“The fireworks were going off, and I was paralyzed,” Bates said of her first New Year’s Eve after being shot. “I was literally sitting there crying. My cousin actually came outside and put my noise-canceling headphones on and turned the music on so that I couldn’t hear anymore. That’s the only way that I could move from outside to inside.”

Alea Bates rests a hand on her chin, sitting for a portrait outside.
Bates didn’t have the strength to walk after being hospitalized for seven gunshot wounds. Still, after four days, the hospital told Bates it was time to go. (Alicia Devine for ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ)

Bates said her follow-up care included getting her stitches removed at an orthopedic clinic that has physicians who work at the hospital and had performed the initial surgery.

During the visit, Bates said, the orthopedic clinic’s staff reminded her of the unpaid balance from her surgery, which was about $1,200 for physician services. She still owed the hospital $52,000 for treatment, according to her medical bills, and an additional $5,300 for the anesthesiologist. Bates was not working at the time.

Bates said a community outpatient clinic provided physical therapy at a reduced cost and that the victim advocate unit at the Tallahassee Police Department helped find her mental health counseling and get her financial aid from Florida’s .

By 2021, Bates developed a cyst on the gunshot wound to her right thumb, which required surgery. But, she said, the clinic would not perform the surgery until she paid her $1,200 balance. She said friends paid the bill so she could have the surgery.

Bates’ knee bothered her. “Even with going through physical therapy,” she said, “it was still like I couldn’t feel it.”

Bates said she now has private health insurance that pays for her mental health therapy. She pays for physical therapy out-of-pocket.

“It’s crazy that in this country somebody else can hurt you,” Bates said, and “you have to pay for what they did to you.”

“So it’s like you’re triple-paying: You’re paying every day mentally, you’re paying with the bills, and you’re paying by them saying, We know that this is not your fault, but we still have to make our money.”

Methodology

The Trace and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ examined more than 20 million inpatient hospitalizations in Florida from 2018 to 2024, using data obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration. We identified 20,255 gunshot wound-related visits using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury surveillance case definition, which relies on diagnosis codes. We limited the analysis to initial encounters and excluded patients who died in the hospital or left against medical advice. We excluded cases in the top 1% for hospital length of stay (68 days or more) to prevent these outliers from disproportionately influencing results.

Our primary finding compares the average length of stay of uninsured patients with that of privately insured patients. We chose privately insured patients as the reference group because many researchers believe their care on average is long enough to be effective but not longer than medically necessary. Overall, uninsured patients had hospital stays that were about 25% shorter on average than privately insured patients’ and 50% shorter than those of patients on traditional Medicaid. In most cases we also found that, within the same hospital, uninsured patients had shorter stays than privately insured ones.

To assess whether age or injury severity explained the shorter lengths of stay for uninsured patients, we calculated and fit regression models for Florida’s highest-volume gunshot wound hospitals. We found that, in nearly all cases, the gap narrowed slightly but did not disappear.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ data editor Holly K. Hacker contributed to this report.

This article was produced in partnership with The Trace, a nonprofit newsroom covering gun violence in America. .

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

]]> 2253271 Festering Infections to Untreated Cancer: ICE Detainees Describe Medical Neglect Across US /courts/ice-immigration-detention-medical-care-neglect-court-records-ap-investigation/ Tue, 02 Jun 2026 13:00:00 +0000 An Albanian man’s pain grew so unbearable, he said, he pulled out his own tooth as he languished for months in a New Mexico immigration detention center. A Honduran mother of two said she was hospitalized for a heart problem after she was denied blood pressure medications while held in Florida. A said his leg grew purple and swollen from flesh-eating bacteria when staffers at a Vermont facility did not bring him to a scheduled doctor appointment.

Hundreds of detainees across at least 33 states allege in federal suits that immigration detention facilities are failing to provide adequate medical care, an investigation by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and The Associated Press found. Detainees say they didn’t get medications on time — or at all — for conditions including high blood pressure, diabetes, depression, epilepsy, Parkinson’s, and HIV. Requests for help went unanswered for weeks. Blood sugars rose. Infections festered. Cancers remained untreated. Detainees collapsed and had seizures.

U.S. jails and immigration detention centers have to meet the medical needs of the people in their charge. But the system is sagging under an influx of detentions since President Donald Trump returned to office: More than 75,000 immigrants were being detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement , up from around 40,000 a year earlier.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and AP analyzed thousands of court cases filed since Trump’s second inauguration that use a legal route known as habeas corpus to argue people are being held illegally by ICE. The records offer a rare window into how those detained say, often under penalty of perjury, ICE is handling their medical needs. Reporters also interviewed more than 50 detainees, family members, and lawyers.

The investigation revealed that medical neglect is alleged across the sprawling detention system, including in offices not designed to house people, county jails, and quickly staged sites with nicknames such as “Alligator Alcatraz.”

ICE custody is deadlier than it has been in two decades, researchers wrote in April. The Department of Homeland Security reported 51 people had died in detention since the start of Trump’s second administration — with suicides .

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and AP asked DHS to respond to the findings six days before publication, but it did not provide comment. The department’s acting chief medical officer, Sean Conley, has “it is both policy and longstanding practice for aliens to receive timely and appropriate medical care from the moment they enter ICE custody” and that the agency recruits healthcare professionals to maintain high standards. “This is better, more responsive healthcare than many aliens have ever received in their entire lives,” he has said.

Individual facilities and private prison companies contracting with DHS that responded to requests for comment said they follow ICE standards and detainees receive medical care when it is required. Some said they were unfamiliar with the allegations outlined in court documents; others blamed some detainees for lapses in their medical care.

“I have never seen such disregard or medical neglect like this anywhere,” Vardan Gukasian, a political dissident and former paramedic who spent years behind bars in Armenia, wrote in in March to contest his detention in Henderson, Nevada, as it stretched to 13 months despite health problems.

Madeleine Skains, a spokesperson for the city of Henderson, said medical care is always available at the facility and that the court had not ordered changes to his care.

Last June, as Gukasian experienced the symptoms of uncontrolled high blood pressure — dizziness, a nosebleed, and a headache — his cellmate banged on their door for help.

“When it did not arrive, the rest of the block banged on their doors,” he wrote. Gukasian was hospitalized that day.

‘Brazen Indifference to Really Obvious Problems’

The administration’s mass deportation effort has swept up during routine immigration check-ins, at traffic stops, at their homes, and in hospitals.

About have no criminal conviction. Their immigration proceedings are civil, not criminal.

“I couldn’t understand why they treated me so harshly,” said a father of six in Georgia. He said he was injured while shackled in custody when the vehicle transporting him to an Atlanta facility jolted, throwing him out of his seat and into a metal armrest. His wound became infected with E. coli, he said, because he had to sleep on a dirty concrete floor amid leaking toilets.

Like other detainees interviewed, he spoke on the condition of anonymity; they said they fear for their safety, for the safety of their families, or that speaking out would jeopardize their immigration cases. The AP and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ are not naming anyone identified in court documents without their consent.

Staffers at Stewart Detention Center in rural Lumpkin, Georgia, didn’t adequately respond to that man’s request for medical help, , until he passed out and was taken to a hospital about an hour away. There, he said, a doctor told him he’d narrowly escaped amputation of his left leg. Medical staff found no records of a case matching this description, according to Brian Todd, a spokesperson for CoreCivic, which runs the facility.

The 48-year-old, who moved to the U.S. from Guatemala more than two decades ago, was released in October and is now a legal permanent resident. But he is unsure if he’ll be able to return to his job in construction because, he said, he can no longer lift heavy things due to his injury.

A man in the Atlanta area was injured while in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody and developed an E. coli infection. “I couldn’t understand why they treated me so harshly,” says the father of six U.S. citizens, who is now a legal permanent resident but did not want to be named to avoid potential retaliation against his family. (Brynn Anderson/AP)

Some detainees or their lawyers said even basic care was denied: gauze to protect an open foot wound, prenatal care for a high-risk pregnancy, a pillow to ease the pain of sleeping with advanced stomach cancer, sanitary pads for postpartum bleeding.

“I would like to believe the government has the best interest of those it holds in detention for whatever period of time,” Judge Benita Pearson, a federal judge in Ohio, said during a hearing in October concerning a 70-year-old who alleged the government lost her glasses during her arrest. “If one is unable to see due to the loss of glasses when detained, that should be fixed.”

, who worked for ICE and now serves as a special adviser to the American Bar Association, said case law requires the government to treat people in immigration detention with the same care it affords those in traditional jails awaiting trial. But administrators are granted discretion and medical care standards vary.

Detainees are frequently moved across the country, often without warning, interrupting treatment. A woman from El Salvador said she missed a week of HIV medication when she was transferred from Colorado to a county jail in Wyoming.

A Russian man wrote that, while detained in Texas, he saw a gastroenterologist about his painful gallstones and scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. “Unfortunately, I never got to see him, due to my being moved around various detention centers.”

Advocates say that even obvious disabilities, like legal blindness, are ignored.

A detainee who lost one eye and had severe glaucoma in the other required twice-daily drops to maintain what vision remained. But, he said, some days the drops never came.

“Now I can only see a little bit straight in front. It now often looks like I’m seeing through gauze,” the man wrote in a court declaration. “This makes me very afraid that one of these times I am going to open my eyes and not be able to see anything at all.”

He wrote that he was scared he wouldn’t be able to see his infant son grow up.

“It’s just sort of brazen indifference to really obvious problems, things you would have thought absurd a decade ago — like the fact that you can’t see,” the man’s attorney, Brian Hoffman, said. “Before, you could attempt to work with folks on the government side and maybe shame them into doing the right thing. Now, it’s sort of like anything you want done you have to go to court and sue over.”

Even court orders aren’t always enough. One California judge ordered the government to take a man showing signs of prostate cancer to a specialist for diagnosis and treatment. Records show they did not take him.

Lawyers representing ICE told the judge that officials missed the appointment because of an “internal scheduling error.” CoreCivic, which runs that facility, said it was unable to comment on active litigation.

A Surge in Cases

When immigrants file habeas corpus petitions, they exercise a right to challenge unlawful imprisonment that dates to .

More than 40,000 such petitions have been filed during Trump’s second term, fueled by decisions last year to deny bond to many people held on immigration charges. Judges are split on whether that’s legal; the question appears headed to the Supreme Court.

Many habeas claims , but judges typically cite reasons unrelated to the medical neglect described in the petitions, such as detainees’ being held too long before being deported.

The more than 300 medical neglect claims found in this investigation represent a fraction of the problem. The details of habeas corpus cases are often hidden due to a federal rule barring the public from viewing such documents online. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and AP obtained some documents from courthouses and received records on 4,400 cases from , a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative. But tens of thousands more remain largely inaccessible.

Some judges have written that the habeas process is not how to raise allegations of medical neglect and have declined to release detainees over those claims. Not every detainee who believes they experienced medical neglect files a habeas petition or cites their medical issues if they do.

Jose-Antonio Segismundo’s petition made no mention of being unable to see an oncologist for the cancer in his abdomen while detained for more than seven months at the Florida detention facility known as Alligator Alcatraz and Folkston D Ray ICE Processing Center in Georgia. Medical records in his court filings show he was arrested about five weeks before his scheduled appointment with a cancer specialist.

His wife, Maria Jose Gonzalez, said he didn’t receive any treatment even though she sent his medical records and explained his condition to officials at Folkston. When his stomach pain erupted, often suddenly and intensely, she said, they gave him Tylenol.

Geo Group, which runs Folkston, follows ICE standards and provides healthcare and access to off-site medical specialists when needed, spokesperson Christopher Ferreira said.

This spring, Segismundo, 48, was deported to Mexico, a country he left nearly 30 years ago, Gonzalez said. Now, she said, he will have to restart his search for care in the Oaxacan village where he grew up.

Maria Jose Gonzalez of Wimauma, Florida, holds a photo of her husband, Jose-Antonio Segismundo, who was detained in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody for more than seven months in Florida and Georgia before being deported to Mexico. Medical records show he was arrested about five weeks before his scheduled appointment with a specialist to treat his abdominal cancer. (Chris O'Meara/AP)

Watching Loved Ones Deteriorate

Detainees receiving inadequate healthcare have little recourse. The Department of Homeland Security last year gutted the Office of the Immigration Detention Ombudsman. In early May, it shut the office entirely, arguing that Congress didn’t fund it.

Previously, ombudsman staffers could help facilitate medical care or look into complaints of neglect, according to Matt Boles, an immigration attorney in Georgia. Now, he said, there’s no one to call.

Meanwhile, detainees’ families said they feel helpless, making desperate calls to facilities, the government, and their legislators while watching their loved ones deteriorate.

Riya Khan saw her mother get sicker at the California City Detention Facility, which is owned by CoreCivic. When she visited a week after her mother arrived at the facility in the Mojave Desert, Riya said, the 64-year-old woman stumbled into her seat. She was shaking and her breathing was labored.

Masuma Khan came to the U.S. from Bangladesh in 1997. She has no criminal history, her records say, and was detained in October when she showed up for her regular ICE check-in.

For the month she was detained, according to her daughter, she only intermittently received her medications for conditions including high blood pressure, hypothyroidism, and prediabetes. CoreCivic treats chronic conditions in line with applicable medical standards, Todd said.

“Nothing matters more to CoreCivic than the health, safety and well-being of the people in our care,” Todd said.

Khan said she got her asthma medication for the first time two days before she was released and that her eye drops for glaucoma never arrived. Staffers told Khan she needed to buy some of her medications from the commissary but it didn’t stock them, her daughter said.

Before ICE detained Masuma Khan, she made friends with everyone, her daughter said. She had worked for years at Lucky Boy, an iconic Pasadena fast-food restaurant, and in her free time fed birds and left out fruit for bees that visited her apartment’s balcony.

Now she’s too scared to go outside. She still must regularly check in with ICE, and she’s terrified each time.

Masuma Khan (center) waits in line with her attorney Laboni Hoq (left of Khan) to enter a federal building in Los Angeles for an appointment on April 21. (Jae C. Hong/AP)
Khan (second from right in the front row) and her daughter, Riya (fourth from right in the front row), pose with supporters outside a federal building in Los Angeles on April 21. (Jae C. Hong/AP)
Khan (right) came to the U.S. from Bangladesh in 1997 and was detained for a month after she showed up for a regular check-in with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement in October. Here, she hugs her daughter, Riya (left). (Jae C. Hong/AP)
A “Welcome Home” balloon that was left at the front door of Khan’s apartment in Altadena, California, after she was released from an immigration detention facility. (Jae C. Hong/AP)
Khan’s daughter says that her mother has nightmares and is scared to go outside after being held at an immigration detention facility for a month in 2025. (Jae C. Hong/AP)

    A Stroke on a Video Call

    Previously, detainees with serious medical needs would likely have been released on humanitarian parole, in part to avoid the cost of their care, Vermont attorney Andrew Pelcher said.

    In fiscal year 2023 — before the detained population soared — ICE spent more than $390 million on healthcare for detained noncitizens, according to its to Congress. In May, Todd Lyons, then acting director of ICE, said at a conference that the agency had already spent “almost half a billion dollars” on detainee healthcare this year.

    Now, under “mandatory detention,” people are staying locked up with serious — and expensive — conditions.

    A Romanian citizen underwent several heart surgeries, including an emergency triple bypass in April 2025, before he was arrested in July. As part of his recovery, the 52-year-old was required to take 16 daily medications. While at an ICE field office in Baltimore, his court filings allege, he went two days without any medication before officials moved him to a facility in New Jersey.

    He was hospitalized three times while detained, complaining of chest pains — in part, medical records and court documents say, because despite “countless requests,” the detention center did not provide all his medications. Hospital discharge papers cited by his lawyer show he received only eight of the 16 medications after his second release from the hospital.

    “Can you please talk to the ICE facility to make sure they give him his medications?” his treatment providers wrote in medical records included in his court filings. “He was admitted last week for chest pain and today he was readmitted again for chest pain secondary to non compliance for medications.”

    Several weeks later in August, he had a stroke while on a video call with his daughter, according to court filings. “He was struggling to breathe, and was pointing at his chest where he was again experiencing pain, and suddenly stopped speaking.” His daughter screamed for help through the video monitor, according to his petition. “Eventually an officer came in to assist him and cut the feed.”

    The man lost his ability to speak for four days, the document says. He was returned to detention, where he remained until a federal judge ordered his release in November.

    Khan holds medication she takes daily. While detained, she says, she only intermittently received her medications for multiple conditions including high blood pressure, hypothyroidism, and prediabetes. (Jae C. Hong/AP)

    Impossible Choices

    Cassandra Amador waits for the phone to ring every morning, desperate to ask her husband the question that’s woken her up every night for months: “Did you get your medicine?”

    Her husband, Pedro Javier Amador Gutierrez, 36, has high blood pressure and depends on the state-run facility in Florida nicknamed “Deportation Depot” to administer the prescriptions that have kept him alive for years. Many mornings, he tells his wife he did not get them.

    When she talks to him, she said, he sounds weaker and more scared every day, not like the upbeat man who would take her kids out for ice cream.

    “You can hear in his voice how he feels,” she said.

    Now, she said, he’s considering returning to Cuba, which he fled because of political persecution, out of fear that he will die in detention without his medicines. Amador and her children would go with him, she said, even though she was born in New Jersey, has never been to Cuba, and doesn’t speak much Spanish.

    But he’s already collapsed twice at the Baker Correctional Institution in Sanderson, Florida, his wife said. She’s terrified that the next time, he won’t get up.

    Methodology

    ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and The Associated Press sifted through thousands of immigration habeas corpus claims to find allegations of medical neglect from people detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement during the second Trump administration.

    Without a comprehensive, publicly available dataset of medical complaints by those in ICE custody, we used immigration habeas corpus claims to identify detainees’ healthcare-related allegations raised in federal court. Although the intended purpose of habeas corpus is to challenge the legality of a petitioner’s detention — rather than conditions of their confinement — these filings sometimes include detainees’ claims of inadequate healthcare.

    But habeas corpus filings are not always publicly available. Federal rules restrict how members of the public can access habeas petitions filed by people in immigration detention. For most of these cases, court websites publish only court orders and dockets describing other filings. The initial petitions are available only through in-person visits to federal courthouses across the country. Habeas Dockets, a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative, coordinates a nationwide network of volunteers to gather these petitions and make them available online.

    ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and AP analyzed the dockets of roughly 33,000 cases filed by detainees from Jan. 20, 2025, through March 2026. The vast majority of cases had only basic procedural information, like dates of court filings and rulings. Only about 4,400 included the original petitions.

    We also gathered a few dozen case files from courthouses, lawyers, and the Massachusetts federal district court website, which posts most petitions under a unique standing order.

    We ran keyword and semantic searches of court records, including petitions, motions, and orders, for terms and phrases potentially related to medical neglect, such as surgery, medications, inadequate medical care, and treatment for chronic conditions such as diabetes and high blood pressure.

    We found about 500 cases potentially alleging medical neglect. At least two reporters reviewed each case manually, yielding more than 300 cases containing specific allegations in sworn filings of delayed, denied, or deficient healthcare.

    To be conservative, we excluded dozens of cases that alleged inadequate medical care but lacked specifics, for example a petitioner writing, “I have been sick and don’t get proper treatment,” or a judge noting a petitioner “complains that ICE is ignoring his medical problems.” We also excluded cases in which petitioners claimed only that they were denied special diets, exercise, or other accommodations that they said were key to managing their health conditions, such as a petitioner writing, “I suffer from Parkinson’s and cannot properly exercise,” or claiming that the food provided was unfit for a person with diabetes.

    The cases we analyzed were neither randomly selected nor representative of immigration habeas filings nationwide. The claims were not independently verified. Many filings are not publicly available, and not all detainees raise medical concerns in court, so our account of cases represents a limited window into the landscape of claims, rather than a comprehensive picture.

    Associated Press journalists Garance Burke, Valerie Gonzalez, and Tim Sullivan as well as ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ correspondent Kate Wells contributed to this report.

    This report is a collaboration between The Associated Press and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

    ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

    This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

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