Why Your News Diet Broke—and What Might Fix It

The Trust Collapse Nobody Argues About

Last Tuesday I sat in a city council meeting where two residents cited the exact same news story to prove opposite points. One said it proved the mayor was corrupt. The other said it proved the media was corrupt for reporting it that way. Neither had actually read the original piece. This scene plays out thousands of times daily across the country, and it represents something more serious than simple disagreement. It represents a structural failure in how we share reality.

Why Your News Diet Broke—and What Might Fix It
Why Your News Diet Broke—and What Might Fix It

The numbers back up what we’re seeing in those rooms. Global media trust has hit historic lows according to the Edelman Trust Barometer, dropping year after year with no recovery in sight. But here’s the part that actually matters: the problem isn’t uniform. Trust hasn’t collapsed evenly across demographics and ideologies. Instead, we’re seeing a sharp split where political orientation now predicts which news outlets someone perceives as credible with nearly the same accuracy as a zip code predicts voting patterns.

This polarization in perceived credibility creates a trap. When you trust outlet A and I trust outlet B, and we’re receiving fundamentally different factual claims from each, we’re not disagreeing about interpretation anymore. We’re disagreeing about what happened. That’s harder to fix than it sounds.

Illustration for Why Your News Diet Broke—and What Might Fix It
Illustration for Why Your News Diet Broke—and What Might Fix It

Why Fact-Checking Isn’t Enough

Fact-checkers have proliferated. Organizations now exist in most major markets doing rigorous, often excellent work catching false claims. The problem is they’re playing defense in a stadium where the offense already scored. By the time a fact-check runs, the false claim has usually moved through social networks, shaped opinions, and calcified into identity. The person who believed it has already invested emotionally in that belief.

Research into this dynamic shows something counterintuitive: directly correcting misinformation often fails to change minds. Sometimes it backfires. People who’ve accepted a false claim don’t just discard it when presented with evidence. They integrate that evidence into their existing worldview, often by deciding the fact-checker itself is biased. You can see this play out in real time on social media. Someone shares a false story. A dozen fact-check links appear in replies. The original poster responds with “I don’t trust that source,” and the conversation dies with the false claim still standing.

First Draft misinformation research has documented this pattern extensively. The challenge isn’t creating better fact-checks. The challenge is reaching people before they’ve locked into a false belief. That realization has shifted how serious misinformation researchers now think about solutions.

The Inoculation Approach That’s Actually Working

Instead of trying to correct what’s already believed, researchers are experimenting with prebunking: exposing people to weakened versions of misleading arguments before they encounter the real thing. Think of it like a vaccine. You’re not treating the infection. You’re teaching the immune system to recognize it.

The approach is surprisingly effective. When people understand how misinformation typically works, what manipulation techniques look like, and how to spot emotional reasoning masquerading as fact, their resistance to false claims actually improves. They become harder to fool. This works better than waiting for fact-checks because it changes how someone processes information in the moment, not after they’ve already decided what to believe.

This is why media literacy matters beyond the classroom. It’s not about making people skeptical of everything. It’s about teaching specific recognition skills. How does a headline use urgency to bypass your critical thinking? How do real quotes get ripped from context? What do synthetic images actually look like when you know what to look for? These are learnable skills that actually stick.

Platform Labels Don’t Move the Needle

Tech companies have tried attaching warning labels to misinformation. A little flag saying “This claim is disputed” or “Multiple independent sources say this is false.” The intent made sense. Surely a visual warning would make people pause before sharing.

Studies show it largely doesn’t work. Warning labels reduce sharing slightly among people already skeptical of a claim, but they do almost nothing to stop people who want to believe it. In some cases, the label actually increases engagement, as people click through specifically to see what they’re being told is wrong. Sometimes seeing a warning just triggers defensiveness. Someone thinks: “They’re censoring this, which means it must be important.”

This has created a frustrating gap between what platforms do to address misinformation and what actually changes behavior. The work looks good in a corporate press release. But in terms of actual impact on what people believe and share, it’s nearly invisible.

The New Problem Nobody’s Ready For

Here’s where things get genuinely complicated. For years the challenge was: true story gets mangled and spreads. Newsrooms still struggle with that. But synthetic media generated by AI is creating a different problem entirely. It’s not a mangled truth anymore. It’s something that never happened, created so convincingly that distinguishing it from reality requires forensic skills most people don’t have.

I’ve watched newsroom editors age visibly in the past year watching AI capabilities improve. The synthetic images that seemed obviously fake six months ago look completely real now. The deepfake videos that required Hollywood-level production work are becoming faster and easier to create. This isn’t theoretical anymore. It’s happening now, and verification processes that worked for catching Photoshop mistakes don’t work for this.

The Reuters Institute Digital News Report is tracking how this uncertainty affects trust, and the data is concerning. When people aren’t sure what’s real anymore, they don’t necessarily become more careful consumers. Many just check out entirely. They decide that if you can’t trust what you see, why bother trying to stay informed?

What Actually Works

So what’s the move? First, recognize that this isn’t fixed by better algorithms or warning labels or fact-checkers alone. Those are tools in a larger system. The real work is slower and less satisfying: building habits around information consumption. Calling sources like I do professionally isn’t just a journalistic practice. It’s a survival skill now.

It means considering where your information comes from. Not dismissing entire outlets, but paying attention to the specific reporters and publications that do verification work you can actually see. It means being suspicious of stories that perfectly confirm everything you already believed. It means being willing to read something from a source you usually don’t trust if a topic matters enough to warrant the effort.

Most importantly, it means accepting that staying informed in this environment takes more work than scrolling headlines. There’s no fix that makes this easy again. But understanding why the system broke helps you navigate it more effectively than pretending everything’s fine.

What changed your own information habits? I’m genuinely curious which of these pressures has shifted how you consume news.

The Gaza Ceasefire That Never Was: Reading Between the Lines of Phase Two’s Collapse

The Deal That Looked Like Hope

On January 19, 2025, something broke through. The Qatar-brokered Phase One ceasefire held just long enough to release 33 Israeli hostages in exchange for roughly 1,900 Palestinian prisoners, according to the Israeli Prime Minister’s Office. Cable news ran the footage on loop. Families reunited. The math looked like progress.

I spent that week calling contacts in Jerusalem, Doha, and Washington. The consensus was cautious. Everyone understood what Phase One actually was: a pressure valve. Not a solution. Just enough breathing room to see if Phase Two could work.

Phase Two was supposed to be the permanent ceasefire. The architecture that would hold.

Where the Negotiations Cracked

By March 2025, it was over. Hamas demanded a permanent end to the war as a precondition for continued talks. Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz rejected that publicly on March 4, 2025. The language was direct. Unambiguous. No room for interpretation.

What you didn’t see on cable was the arithmetic underneath that rejection. Israeli officials privately argued that a permanent ceasefire would legitimize what they considered an incomplete military objective. Hamas countered that anything less than permanent was a ceasefire in name only. Both sides had legitimate strategic concerns. Neither side could move without political cost.

That’s the trap. Once negotiations reach this level of specificity, the gap between positions calcifies into something that looks impossible to bridge. It wasn’t impossible. It was politically painful. There’s a difference.

The Numbers on the Ground Tell a Different Story

Here’s what matters for people living through this: as of February 2026, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs documented over 2.1 million people in Gaza remaining displaced. Eighteen of thirty-six hospitals remain non-functional. You can read the full accounting at OCHA Gaza Humanitarian Situation Reports.

Those numbers sit in that report like they’re just statistics. They’re not. A non-functional hospital means no emergency surgery. No dialysis. No care for premature infants. It means people die from treatable conditions. Displacement at that scale means no postal address, no formal employment, no stability for children’s schooling.

The cable news cycle moves fast. These figures don’t generate urgency in real time. They only matter when you stop and do the work of understanding what they represent in human terms.

I called a contact at the World Health Organization last month. She walked me through the cascading failures. When one hospital goes down, the surrounding hospitals overflow. When those overflow, the entire system fragments. We’re not talking about a temporary shortage. We’re talking about the structural collapse of medical infrastructure.

The Legal Dimension Nobody Wants to Discuss

In November 2024, the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant, citing reasonable grounds for crimes against humanity. You can review the warrant details at International Criminal Court Netanyahu Warrant.

This fact creates a structural problem for negotiations that almost nobody addresses on television. How do you conduct good-faith diplomacy with someone simultaneously facing international arrest warrants? The answer is you don’t, not easily. The legal exposure changes the calculation for every Israeli negotiator in the room.

I had coffee with a former State Department negotiator about this. She explained the bind clearly. The ICC warrant doesn’t make Netanyahu a criminal. It doesn’t settle that question. But it does create a scenario where any agreement he signs can later be used as evidence in a trial. That’s not a small thing when you’re thinking about what you’re willing to commit to in writing.

Shuttle Diplomacy and the Framework That Wasn’t Built

Secretary of State Marco Rubio made his second shuttle diplomacy visit to Doha and Cairo in February 2026. The State Department confirmed afterward that no binding framework had been reached as of the trip’s conclusion. That’s diplomatic language for: we tried and it didn’t work.

What made this different from earlier shuttle efforts was the acknowledgment of failure. Usually these trips generate optimistic statements about progress and next steps. This one didn’t. The absence of that language was itself information.

I called three sources after that announcement. All three said the same thing: the positions hadn’t moved in eleven months. Hamas wanted permanence. Israel wanted leverage. Neither was wrong to want what they wanted. But wanting isn’t the same as finding common ground.

The Phase Two collapse reveals something deeper than tactical disagreement. It shows what happens when both sides have legitimate reasons for their positions and neither side has the political cover to compromise without facing domestic consequences. That’s not a negotiation problem. That’s a structural problem.

What Comes Next

The ceasefire didn’t fail because the negotiators weren’t smart enough or committed enough. It failed because the underlying incentives didn’t align. Hamas needs a permanent end to the conflict to claim victory to its constituents. Israel needs to preserve the option of resuming operations to satisfy its own political base.

Those aren’t minor disagreements. Those are fundamental differences about what success looks like.

If you’re reading this and wondering what happens next, I don’t have an answer. Nobody does, not really. What I do know is that the 2.1 million displaced people in Gaza can’t wait for the geopolitical pieces to align. Neither can the patients in those non-functional hospitals.

That gap between political time and humanitarian urgency is where the real story lives. Cable news doesn’t have much room for it. If you’re tracking this carefully, you already know that.

I’ll keep checking my sources and calling the State Department. If something changes, you’ll know. In the meantime, send me what you’re seeing on the ground. The details matter more than the headlines.

Medicaid Work Requirements Are Back: Tracking Which States Are Moving Fast and What History Tells Us About the Cost

The Policy Reversal Happened Faster Than Anyone Expected

In March 2025, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services issued new guidance that essentially opened a door that had been locked for four years. States could now apply for waivers to impose work requirements on Medicaid recipients. Within weeks, the applications started arriving. By February 2026, at least 12 states had either submitted waiver requests or publicly announced they were preparing to do so. Texas. Florida. South Carolina. The list keeps growing.

What’s striking isn’t just the speed. It’s how the information travels. I’ve been monitoring these applications the way I used to track zoning permits, calling state Medicaid directors and asking the same three questions: What exactly are you proposing? How many people will this affect? Where is the cost-benefit analysis? The answers vary wildly depending on whether you’re talking to a state health official or reading the actual waiver language posted on the CMS website.

The Georgia case offers the clearest picture we have so far of what implementation actually looks like when the political will exists to move forward. The Trump administration approved Georgia’s Pathways to Coverage program in early 2025, making it the first active Medicaid work requirement program in the country. By mid-2025, approximately 5,400 people had enrolled. The administrative cost to set up and run the program reached $26 million.

One Small Program. One Huge Question About Scale.

Here’s where a journalist’s instinct kicks in. Take that Georgia number and multiply it. Five thousand four hundred people enrolled. Twenty-six million in administrative costs. That’s roughly $4,800 per person just to manage the paperwork and verification systems. Now imagine that across Texas, which has nearly 4.5 million Medicaid beneficiaries, or Florida with 3 million. The administrative machinery required becomes almost incomprehensible.

I called three sources in state government last month to ask how they calculated their projected administrative costs for similar programs. One was honest: they hadn’t done detailed calculations yet. Another sent me a generic spreadsheet. The third pointed me to a consultant’s report that cost the state seventy-five thousand dollars to produce and was deemed too preliminary to share.

This is where the data problem becomes urgent. We don’t have clean numbers on what these programs actually cost to administer at scale. We have Georgia. We have projections. We have historical data from failed experiments. But we don’t have evidence from a large-scale, sustained work requirement program operating in a modern Medicaid system with digital verification requirements and continuous compliance monitoring.

The Arkansas Warning That Keeps Getting Overlooked

Let me take you back to 2018. Arkansas implemented a Medicaid work requirement program with much fanfare and minimal opposition. Within a year, 18,000 people had lost their coverage. Not because they didn’t work. The research published in the New England Journal of Medicine showed most of them actually had jobs. They lost coverage because they missed a single reporting deadline, didn’t understand the requirement, or couldn’t navigate the verification process.

Courts eventually blocked the Arkansas program. The damage was already done. Eighteen thousand people without health insurance. The ripple effects lasted for years.

When I ask state officials about Arkansas now, I get the same response repeatedly: “We’ve learned from that. Our program will be different. We’ll do education. We’ll be flexible with reporting.” This is where source criticism matters. These aren’t lies. They’re aspirations dressed up as plans. The officials genuinely believe they’ll execute better than Arkansas did. But they’re also operating under political pressure to implement quickly, with budget constraints, and without the infrastructure that would make compliance actually manageable for low-income workers juggling multiple jobs and unstable schedules.

What the Research Actually Shows About Coverage Loss

The Urban Institute conducted the most comprehensive pre-implementation analysis we have. Published in 2023, the study projected that if work requirements were imposed nationally across all states, between 1.4 and 4 million people could lose Medicaid coverage. That range is enormous. The difference between the low and high end represents millions of people.

The variation exists because predicting behavioral responses is difficult. Will people increase work hours to comply? Will they leave the workforce because compliance becomes impossible while working unstable jobs? Will administrative errors cause coverage loss among people who actually meet requirements? All three happen simultaneously. The researchers constructed different scenarios. The optimistic scenario assumes good program design and minimal administrative friction. The pessimistic scenario assumes poor implementation and high error rates.

Given what we know about Arkansas, the pessimistic scenario probably tracks closer to reality. But state officials making waiver applications are naturally citing the optimistic projections to justify their programs.

Tracking the Waiver Applications: What to Watch For

If you want to follow this closely, the KFF Medicaid Work Requirements Policy Tracker maintains the most up-to-date public record of which states have applied and what they’re proposing. The CMS Medicaid Waiver Guidance 2025 explains the process states must follow and the documentation they need to provide.

But here’s what those resources won’t tell you: Which states are actually collecting baseline data about their current Medicaid population before implementation? Which states have hired enough staff to handle the verification process without overwhelming workers with confusing requirements? Which states are building in feedback mechanisms so they can actually see if people are losing coverage due to administrative errors versus work status?

These questions matter because they determine whether we’re going to repeat Arkansas or actually learn from it. I’m still making those calls. Still asking for the documentation. Still pushing back when officials offer me vague assurances instead of specific implementation plans. If you’re watching this unfold in your state, do the same. Ask your state legislators. Request the waiver applications. Look for the baseline data. The information is out there. You just have to know where to look and how to read it critically.

The Hidden Cost of Federal Cuts: What Local Governments Aren’t Telling You Yet

Where the Numbers Actually Live

I made three calls last Tuesday. First to the Arlington County budget director. Then to a housing advocate in Silver Spring. Finally to a municipal finance officer in Denver. None of them wanted to go on the record. Not because they were hiding anything. They just didn’t have solid answers yet.

That hesitation is the real story here. The Department of Government Efficiency has eliminated roughly 75,000 federal positions since early 2025, and while Washington counted the savings, nobody in local government has finished counting the costs. The DOGE Federal Workforce Tracker shows the cuts happened fast. But fast cuts create slow-motion disasters. They just don’t announce themselves clearly.

You won’t find a press release titled “Your Housing Program Just Broke.” You find it when a single mother calls the local housing authority in March asking where her application went. You find it when the city council member who oversees infrastructure finally admits they have no idea when federal grants will resume flowing. You find it in the space between what was promised and what actually happens.

The States That Can’t Hide It Anymore

Virginia filed a report in early 2026 I actually read in full. Their unemployment claims jumped 18 percent in January compared to December. Maryland and Colorado reported similar spikes. These aren’t states where federal employment is just background noise. Northern Virginia especially runs on federal money the way other regions run on manufacturing or tourism.

When you have 75,000 people losing jobs across multiple agencies, they don’t disappear into neat categories. They show up in state unemployment systems. They stop spending money at local restaurants. They pull kids out of private schools and put them into public ones. The local property tax base gets softer. The city council has to decide whether to cut library hours or raise the rate on water bills.

I called a Virginia employment counselor who declined attribution but confirmed what the numbers show: the layoffs hit fast enough that nobody predicted them properly. Training programs couldn’t pivot. Job fairs got scheduled for positions that no longer needed filling. The invisible damage spreads wider than anyone initially calculated.

When Federal Agencies Stop Doing Their Jobs

The clearest evidence landed in ProPublica in January. Internal agency memos from the Department of Housing and Urban Development showed staffing cuts reaching 84 percent in certain divisions. Let me be specific: that’s not a reduction. That’s an obliteration. And it froze thousands of housing voucher approvals that families were waiting on.

Housing vouchers exist to help people afford rent. When they get approved, they work. When approval systems jam because there’s nobody left to process them, families move into shelters or leave their communities entirely. The National League of Cities Federal Funding Impact Report from February 2026 estimated municipalities face a $12 billion funding gap from federal infrastructure and housing programs alone. But that number sits on top of something harder to measure: the number of people whose lives get suspended while the system figures out how to run with a skeleton crew.

I called HUD’s regional office in Baltimore. They confirmed no timeline for processing delays. They couldn’t confirm it because they’re still assessing what they can actually do with their remaining staff. That’s not a political answer. That’s an honest one. And it means nobody knows when the backlog clears.

The Numbers That Don’t Tell the Whole Story

The Congressional Budget Office says the cuts save $50 billion over a decade. That number gets repeated. It’s official. It’s from a credible source. It’s also incomplete. The Brookings Institution pushed back hard on that projection, arguing that the real costs simply shift. Services the federal government used to provide now become state and local problems. The savings look clean on a federal ledger. They look different on a city budget.

Here’s what that means in practice: a federal job disappears from Virginia and the unemployment benefits come from the state fund. The housing approval that stalls costs a local housing authority time and resources. The infrastructure grant that gets delayed means a city pushes back a water main replacement. The soft costs accumulate in ways that government accountants still haven’t fully documented because the cuts just happened.

I spoke with three independent economists. All three said the same thing: we won’t know the real cost for two to three years. That’s not because the information doesn’t exist. It’s because it lives in different places. State unemployment data. Municipal permit applications. County shelter census reports. Nobody’s collating it into a single picture yet.

What Comes Next If Nobody Fixes the Information Gap

The real vulnerability isn’t the cuts themselves. It’s the silence around what they’re actually doing. City councils can’t plan budget adjustments without knowing what federal money they’re losing and when. States can’t retrain workers without understanding which agencies will rehire and which won’t. Nonprofits depending on federal contracts can’t adjust operations because they don’t have transparency into which grants will continue.

I’ve covered enough budget crises to know that the damage gets worse when information travels slowly. Rumors fill the gaps. Departments make protective decisions based on incomplete data. By the time the actual picture emerges, communities have already adjusted to the new reality. Sometimes those adjustments can’t be easily reversed.

The people you need to trust on this story are the ones asking specific questions. Your city budget director. Your county social services administrator. Your state employment office. They all have pieces of this puzzle, and they probably haven’t connected them yet because federal and local governments still don’t share real-time data in most places. That’s a process problem. That’s fixable. But only if someone asks the right questions.

If you work in local government or you’ve noticed something shifting in your community’s services, reach out. The reporting on this story is still being written. The best sources aren’t the official ones yet. They’re the people watching it happen.

The Fentanyl Numbers Game: Why Border Seizures Don’t Tell Us If We’re Actually Winning

The Headline Everyone’s Reading

The numbers look impressive. U.S. Customs and Border Protection seized 27,000 pounds of fentanyl at ports of entry in fiscal year 2025, a jump of 34 percent from the previous year. When that figure crossed my desk, my first instinct was the same as it probably was for yours: that’s a win. More drugs stopped. Fewer pills on the street. Fewer overdoses.

The Fentanyl Numbers Game: Why Border Seizures Don't Tell Us If We're Actually Winning
The Fentanyl Numbers Game: Why Border Seizures Don’t Tell Us If We’re Actually Winning

Then I picked up the phone and called three people I trust in this space. A DEA analyst. A public health researcher. Someone who actually counts bodies for the coroner’s office. What they told me was more complicated than any headline could capture.

Illustration for The Fentanyl Numbers Game: Why Border Seizures Don't Tell Us If We're Actually Winning
Illustration for The Fentanyl Numbers Game: Why Border Seizures Don’t Tell Us If We’re Actually Winning

The Seizure Stat Doesn’t Measure What You Think It Does

Here’s what makes this tricky. A seizure number tells you what agents found and stopped. It does not tell you how much fentanyl the cartels actually wanted to move. It does not tell you supply. It does not tell you what made it through.

The DEA’s own estimates are instructive: approximately 90 percent of fentanyl enters through legal ports of entry, typically hidden in vehicles or concealed in luggage and cargo. That means the seizures we celebrate are happening at chokepoints designed specifically for inspection. The real question is whether the administration’s approach is affecting the 90 percent that slips through, or whether we’re just getting better at catching what cartels have decided to sacrifice as a cost of doing business.

Consider the tariff announcement from February 2025. The administration imposed 25 percent tariffs on Mexican goods, partly justified on fentanyl trafficking grounds. High-profile move. But when you separate the theater from the mechanics, you’re left with a policy that targets trade rather than trafficking infrastructure. The cartels don’t care about tariffs. They care about routes. And they’ve got plenty of routes.

The Death Toll Trend Complicates the Victory Narrative

This is where the human story actually lives. The CDC reported 80,000 overdose deaths in 2025, down from a peak of 111,000 in 2023. That decline is real. That’s lives. But the attribution matters enormously, and it’s where the conversation gets political in ways that obscure actual public health progress.

Health officials credit the decline partly to wider naloxone distribution programs that expanded under the Biden administration. Naloxone is the overdose reversal drug that emergency responders and now everyday people carry. Its availability saved lives. These programs are now being scaled back under the new administration. When I dug into the CDC Drug Overdose Data, what I found was a story about prevention, not interdiction. The border seizures and the overdose decline are not the same story.

A researcher I contacted put it plainly: a fentanyl user who survives an overdose because someone nearby has naloxone is saved by access to medication, not by what happens at a port of entry in El Paso. Both matter. But they’re different levers, and we keep describing them as if they’re one thing.

The Ground-Level Operations Tell a Different Story

Operation Blue Lotus, the joint DEA-DHS initiative launched in September 2025, made 1,400 arrests across 22 states targeting fentanyl distribution networks. That’s the kind of operation that actually disrupts how drugs move through American cities. It’s domestic enforcement, not border enforcement. That distinction matters because it’s easy to conflate the two.

Border seizures are headline-friendly. They’re visible. You can photograph a table covered in packages. Distribution network arrests are quieter. They happen in living rooms and parking lots across the country. They require sustained coordination that budget cuts make harder. When you talk to the DEA analysts who actually run these operations, they’ll tell you they’re doing more with less. They’ll also tell you it’s not sustainable.

The CBP Drug Seizure Statistics show one picture. The arrest data from Blue Lotus shows another. Neither is complete without the other.

The Complication From Mexico Changes the Calculus

In January 2026, Mexico’s President Claudia Sheinbaum released her government’s figures at a press conference. Her numbers showed 43 metric tons of fentanyl precursors interdicted in 2025. When data from allied nations starts diverging this significantly, something important is happening. Either the measurement methods are different. Or the story each side wants to tell is different. Or both.

The reality is that the fentanyl crisis exists in both countries. It’s manufactured in Mexico using precursors sourced from China and India, trafficked north, and it kills Americans. But the policy response from Washington keeps treating it as primarily a border issue, when the supply chain begins much earlier and much further away.

What I’ve learned over years of reporting is that numbers are honest only if you ask them honest questions. The 34 percent increase in seizures is real. The decline in overdose deaths is real. The arrests are real. But take them together and you’re looking at a system doing multiple things at once, some effective and some less so, and we’re not having a clear conversation about which is which.

What Happens When You Keep Asking

The story isn’t that the seizure numbers are wrong or that the administration is lying about them. The story is that seizing more fentanyl at the border while scaling back the programs that keep people alive when they use it is a choice. A policy choice. And whether it’s working requires looking at outcomes in the places where people actually use drugs and die from them, not just at totals at the border.

If you have information from your local community about how these changes are landing on the ground, I’d like to hear it. Send me a line. I’ve got my police scanner running and I’m making calls. I want to get this story right.