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The Consumer Product Safety Commission, responsible for tracking and issuing recalls of dangerous products sold in the U.S., began discreetly pressuring hospital executives this year to share personally identifiable health data with a private contractor. But hospital lawyers and other industry experts have questioned the agency’s authority to collect, its ability to safeguard such a swath of sensitive information, and whether it has followed the legal process to overhaul its surveillance system.

After ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ asked the CPSC about the new system, the the program on July 21. Left unmentioned, however, is the alarm it has raised among hospital executives, as well as the nature and extent of the agency’s data demands.

In a stark departure from its product-focused mission, the agency’s goal is to obtain millions of Americans’ medical records from emergency room visits for most injuries, from a broken bone to a childhood vaccine reaction or even a suicide attempt, according to documents and emails obtained by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, as well as interviews with five people involved or familiar with the discussions.

A CPSC official also insisted in the emails that the institutions provide all ER patients’ identifiable information — such as names, addresses, diagnoses, and other personal details — to the contractor, Konza Health, for analysis. In correspondence with , Konza representatives described participation as “mandatory” or “required.”

As a condition of viewing the correspondence, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to republish some of the emails it obtained.

The CPSC wants at least 100 hospitals to start sending detailed medical records by the end of this year, according to an .

“The whole thing is troubling,” said Sharona Hoffman, a professor of health law at Case Western Reserve University who noted that giving a private entity access to a sweeping collection of data will introduce risks to patient privacy. “If this company really is collecting identifiable information, that is worrisome for patients.”

The new project was launched amid upheaval at the traditionally independent agency, which is without a governing board since President Donald Trump fired the CPSC’s three Democratic board members. Nearly 1 in 5 career staffers left the CPSC in the first 16 months of the new administration, according to a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis of federal workforce data.

The initiative also comes as the Trump administration has sought unprecedented access to millions of Americans’ medical records, with the Office of Personnel Management requesting federal workers’ sensitive health information and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. using a private organization to collect more medical records for his studies on vaccines and autism.

Steve Roney, CPSC spokesperson, said in an emailed statement on July 10 that the CPSC is “modernizing” its surveillance system. Asked whether the CPSC will file complaints against hospitals that do not participate, he said only that while the previous system “operated as a voluntary program, the ability of hospitals to opt out limited the sample size and usefulness of the data.”

Roney also acknowledged that the agency had not yet notified the public, as “required by law.”

Federal law requires the agency to provide notice and a public comment period before requesting information from 10 or more entities, a step it has not taken despite plans for 100 hospitals to join the surveillance system. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ independently confirmed with over a dozen hospitals that they had been approached.

Federal public health authorities that private health data be reported. But CPSC officials have that if hospitals decline to share data with the new surveillance system, they could be subject to strict penalties from a data-sharing regulation known as “information blocking.”

Yet some hospital executives say they are reluctant to share patients’ sensitive data because they’re concerned about a different violation — that of .

AI Takes Over

Dozens of ERs across the country already participate in the CPSC’s voluntary National Electronic Injury Surveillance System, or NEISS, through which trained hospital workers report injuries involving consumer products, almost always stripped of patients’ identifiable information. The system helps the CPSC identify products, such as baby loungers, toys, and household appliances, with a pattern of injuring consumers.

The new injury surveillance program goes much further.

At a toy industry trade event in February, acting CPSC Chairman Peter Feldman said the agency is “investing in AI-enabled workflows that improve the quality and quantity of injury surveillance data, while also building up digital infrastructure to handle a massive new volume of electronic health records.”

Konza Health, a Kansas-based organization that runs the state’s health data exchange, will automatically pull and analyze medical records of all patient visits from ERs nationwide. Konza won a worth up to $15.9 million with the CPSC last fall.

In email correspondence with hospital technology officials, Konza Health President and CEO Laura McCrary also has described ERs’ participation as “required,” stipulating that they share patients’ records with identifying information.

McCrary told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ by email that the company is not using AI to process the records it receives, saying instead that Konza will use “advanced analytic parsing and filtering capabilities.” Roney, the CPSC spokesperson, did not answer questions about the .

For years, agency officials moving away from human contractors and automating NEISS to save time and money.

But without workers on-site, hospital staffers may no longer receive training to determine what clinical information is important to include for the CPSC. In short, the changes could dilute the quality of the product safety data the agency collects.

“They want to suck in as much data as possible, but I’m not sure how thoughtful they’re being about what is collected and what is actually needed by the agency,” said former CPSC chair Alexander Hoehn-Saric, one of the Democratic appointees Trump fired last year.

Wanted: Injuries From Vaccines and Stingrays

The CPSC’s new data collection appears to contradict its own 214-page , which instructs hospitals not to include identifiable information “such as names, birthdates, or addresses” when reporting cases.

The agency is supposed to receive patients’ identifying information only when needed for follow-up investigations, which happens in fewer than 1% of reported cases, according to the manual.

The CPSC has also historically limited the records it collects to minimize privacy violations in case of a data breach.

The risk is not hypothetical: From 2017 to 2019, the agency improperly released personal health information of around 30,000 people, a disclosure that a top Republican at the time

Konza, however, will receive even more sensitive information on many more people. McCrary said in a statement that Konza will remove patients’ names, addresses, and medical information “not needed by CPSC” before sharing records with the agency.

Leaving a private organization to collect sensitive information introduces risks, including that it could be stolen or used for business purposes, said Hoffman, the Case Western professor.

“Very often, they will use information for marketing because now they’re going to know what conditions people have,” she said.

Roney said that its contract with Konza, which has not been made public, prohibits the organization from selling or marketing the data it collects.

The CPSC’s manual also identifies types of ER visits that should not be reported to the CPSC, which has jurisdiction over only certain consumer products. Excluded injuries are those caused by food, illegal drugs, medical devices, alcohol, or plants, as well as injuries that did not involve consumer products — such as a cut from a rock or broken bones from a fall on the ground — and suicide attempts by adults.

But in a to one hospital and reviewed by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, Konza set no such limits on the information it would gather from ER records and said it would hold on to patient health information for at least 30 days.

In an email sent to hospital technology officials, McCrary wrote that Konza would provide the CPSC with records when a patient is treated in the ER for any of more than 10,000 conditions. The expansive list of diagnostic codes Konza provided in the email includes injuries that do not involve consumer products.

Child injuries resulting from “poisoning by” vaccines or contact with stingrays, neither of which is regulated by the CPSC, are included in the list.

A limited number of hospitals once shared deidentified data on all injuries — regardless of product involvement — through the NEISS using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury-tracking program. But the CDC halted that data collection, after funding and staffing were cut last year, and has not restarted it.

Pressure on Hospitals

CPSC Chief Data Officer Elizabeth Puchek, who joined the agency late last year after engineering U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services’ data system, has told hospitals in emails that they must seek an exemption from the program if they decline to share patients’ emergency room records with Konza.

The CPSC’s targeted outreach has included some of the nation’s largest urban and rural health systems, as well as small, publicly owned hospitals.

Staff members at Mary Greeley Medical Center in Ames, Iowa, said that Konza and federal officials told them their participation in the new program was mandatory. The hospital, which has long participated in NEISS, signed a new contract in April to share its ER records with Konza.

Yet the hospital is reevaluating its participation after being notified that the funds it received to participate in NEISS were “no longer available,” spokesperson Steve Sullivan said.

Several hospital executives, lawyers, and others have raised doubts about the CPSC’s claimed authority.

Harborview Medical Center spokesperson Susan Gregg said the Seattle hospital’s emergency room has “voluntarily submitted de-identified data for many years, but we are not obligated to report this information.”

In Boston, Mass General Brigham has declined to participate in the new program, with spokesperson Kelly Mitchell saying that “to protect patient privacy, we are unable to provide these medical records.”

Henry Ford Health in Detroit; St. Luke’s in Boise, Idaho; and Sanford Health based in Sioux Falls, South Dakota — which together handle over a million ER visits a year — are among the health systems that have been approached but not yet entered into an agreement with Konza, according to representatives. Several of the nation’s busiest hospital systems targeted for the program — including the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, Yale New Haven Hospital in Connecticut, Nationwide Children’s Hospital and the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio, and Baylor Scott & White Health in Texas — declined to answer questions about whether they’re participating.

Hoehn-Saric, the agency’s former chairman, said he was surprised that the CPSC would insist that hospitals provide identifiable records from all emergency room visits.

“This idea that they can simply demand patient information from a hospital and that the hospital would provide it — I really don’t understand the basis for that,” he said.

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

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ senior correspondent Julie Appleby discussed the affordability of Affordable Care Act health insurance plans on Connecticut Public’s The Wheelhouse on July 22.

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Céline Gounder, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ editor-at-large for public health, discussed tick bites on CBS’ CBS Mornings on July 20. She also discussed wildfire smoke and severe heat on CBS’ The Daily Report on July 16.

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³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ senior correspondent Renuka Rayasam discussed the effects of soaring health costs in Georgia on WUGA’s The Georgia Health Report on July 17.

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• Read Rayasam’s “Patients Face a Thicket of Red Tape Trying To Maintain Consistent Health Coverage.”

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

“I want to stay here,” she vowed. “And die here.”

She might pull that off. In relatively good health, Jennett still drives to lunch with friends, does her own housekeeping and grocery shopping, and plows through a book a day, usually a mystery. But her children worry about her living alone at 89, especially after she has had a couple of falls.

Enter her new housemate, Susan Beese. Despite working four days a week in retail, Beese could no longer afford her nearby one-bedroom apartment as the rent topped $1,500 a month. She moved out, first staying with friends and then in what she delicately called “a senior women’s facility.”

Now Beese, who is 79, pays Jennett $800 monthly for a bright two-bedroom space, with a bath and a kitchen, on the lower level of her house. As part of the agreement the housemates worked out, she helps plant and water Jennett’s garden, takes out the trash, and cooks occasional meals.

“It’s been a lifesaver,” Beese said. Jennett even welcomed her dog.

Meet the real-life Golden Girls. In the  1980s sitcom, still in perpetual reruns, the four wisecracking women who share a house in Miami met through an ad on a supermarket bulletin board.

In Denver, the housing matchmaker was Sunshine Home Share Colorado, a local nonprofit that Alison Joucovsky, a senior services administrator, founded in 2016 when the problem became urgent. “My phone was ringing off the hook,” she said, recalling anxious pleas from older residents spending most of their Social Security checks on rising rent or facing years-long waiting lists for subsidized senior housing.

Home sharing “is a really efficient way to create affordable housing and to support older people ,” Joucovsky said. Carefully vetting both “home providers,” who may be rattling around in family houses now too big and too empty, and “home sharers” seeking reasonable rents, Sunshine facilitated 31 shares last year, a record for the nonprofit.

“The cost of developing and building new housing is astronomical, and so is the length of time it takes,” said Laura Fanucchi, president of the National Shared Housing Resource Center and an administrator with HIP Housing, a home-share organization in San Mateo County, California. “Why not make use of existing housing stock?”

About  offer these services — and demand is growing, driven by housing shortages, rising rents, and sales prices that affect both the old and the young. Legislators in several states are working to promote home sharing as an option. (Personal care is not part of these arrangements.)

The need is acute. About a third of households headed by someone 65 or older were “cost-burdened” in 2024, according to  by the Harvard Joint Center for Housing Studies. That means they spent more than 30% of their income on housing.

Although nearly 80% of those people were homeowners, the center found, an increasing proportion are still paying off mortgages or home equity loans, and most contend with higher taxes, utility and maintenance costs, and insurance premiums.

“A lot of the people calling me to complain about property taxes and inflation are senior citizens on fixed incomes whose children have left, and maybe their spouse has died,” said Pennsylvania state Rep. Abby Major, a Republican co-sponsor of a bill that would facilitate home sharing. “They’re a single older adult living in a four-bedroom house.”

Yet most don’t want to relocate. Even if they do, many older adults will find that downsizing has also  as home prices rise and very low interest rates become a memory.

Younger people are similarly cost-burdened, including 37% of those age 25 to 34 and 31% of those 35 to 44, the Joint Center has reported.  both older homeowners who need income and people of any age in search of lower-cost housing.

To help increase their reach, some home-share programs now supplement or replace the traditionally labor-intensive matching process with online platforms. (For-profit companies like Nesterly or roommates.com also facilitate shared housing.)

“It’s like online dating, except that people who have rooms can meet people who need rooms,” said Candice Smith, executive director of HomeShare Oregon. “And it’s a lot more secure.” HomeShare’s online platform has drawn close to 7,000 providers and seekers over five years.

Further support has come from the city of Portland, which this year announced  to pay $1,000 to homeowners who make a spare room available (or $1,500 for two rooms) through qualified home-share programs.

In addition, legislators in several states have introduced or passed bills that prohibit municipalities from unduly restricting homeowners who want to rent spare rooms to nonfamily members. Sponsors in Pennsylvania and Connecticut actually call them Golden Girls bills, and they’ve drawn bipartisan support.

“So many young people have basically given up on buying a home,” said Colorado state Rep. Manny Rutinel. The Democrat helped pass  prohibiting cities and counties from limiting the number of unrelated people who could live together in a single dwelling.

In Pennsylvania, state Rep. Tarik Khan steered  through the House in June; it awaits a Senate vote. “It doesn’t make sense that your cousin can move in but someone unrelated to you can’t,” said Khan, a Democrat.

The Pennsylvania bill caps the number of nonfamily occupants in a home at five; Connecticut’s limit would be three.  passed the Senate in April and then died without a vote in the House. But the bill sponsors plan to reintroduce it next session.

Home sharing can’t solve the housing crisis, its fans acknowledge. But it could make a dent, potentially unlocking thousands of spare bedrooms across the country without requiring new construction that would change the character of neighborhoods.

Admittedly, matching homeowners with those who want to rent a room becomes a delicate process. Home-share staff members typically interview the individual parties, run background checks, verify incomes, coordinate initial phone calls and meetings, and mediate if problems later arise.

They also help applicants sift through the myriad lifestyle preferences that can torpedo a match. “Living together isn’t easy,” Fanucchi said. Will the home provider accept smokers, pets, visitors? Does the sharer work from home? Or need to park a car? Who sets the thermostat?

Sometimes the agreement includes a “service exchange,” in which the newcomer does a few hours of chores like snow shoveling, shopping, or some meal preparation in return for reduced rent.

Jenlyn and Larry Boyer, for instance, have lived in their ranch house in suburban Broomfield, Colorado, for 31 years and never want to leave. But Jenlyn, who is 80, has “gotten unsteady” and uses a walker. Her husband, 70, suffers chronic fibromyalgia pain and needs a wheelchair.

Because they now pay for tasks that they used to undertake themselves, and because inflation has undermined their finances, “I had an epiphany,” Jenlyn said. “We need more help and we need more money.”

Six months ago, through Sunshine Home Share, they met a 46-year-old graduate student whose monthly rent had doubled to an unmanageable $2,000.

The student moved into their furnished downstairs bedroom/family room with a bathroom, a small refrigerator, and a microwave. In exchange for about 10 hours of dishwashing a month, she pays a reduced rent of $600.

The additional income has helped the Boyers cover expenses like van repairs and wheelchair batteries. But they also enjoy chatting with their new housemate.

“She turns out to be just a gem,” Jenlyn said. “We laugh together a lot.”

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with .

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“The national security might be something worth paying for,” Sen. Bill Cassidy of Louisiana, chairman of the Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee, said July 22 in an exclusive interview with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

The U.S., which has grappled with drug shortages in recent years, relies primarily on China to produce the active ingredients in many antibiotics, according to in JAMA Health Forum. Domestic facilities have closed or shifted to producing other drugs.

“Do we want China to have that sort of leverage for these drugs to be produced principally, maybe 99%, over there, and we don’t have access to them if tension rises between the two countries?” said Cassidy, who is a physician.

On July 21, Trump said in a that he would give generic drug companies two years to move production back to the U.S., after which he would impose 100% tariffs on imported products, rising to 200% the following year. Generic drugs make up an estimated 90% of all prescriptions filled in the U.S.

Cassidy, who has served in Congress , lost his bid for reelection in May after Trump endorsed a Republican primary challenger, Rep. Julia Letlow.

Last month, more than 16 months after his vote to confirm Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as head of the Department of Health and Human Services, on CBS News’ Face the Nation that the secretary broke promises he made to the senator, including that he would not change the federal recommendations for childhood vaccines.

Asked whether he would summon Kennedy again to discuss those promises, Cassidy said he had asked for him to appear before his committee but had not heard back about whether he would do so. Kennedy in April to discuss the Trump administration’s fiscal 2027 budget request for HHS.

Cassidy told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ that when he agreed to vote to advance Kennedy’s nomination, he trusted that Kennedy would keep his word about not disparaging vaccines.

“If they agree to guardrails and disregard those guardrails, you can judge me,” Cassidy said. “You may decide my judgment wasn’t very good, but I don’t think you can say I acted in bad faith.”

Regardless, Cassidy added, Kennedy was going to exert influence in the administration, and he thought it would be better for Kennedy to be in an official post, where his work would be subject to oversight.

“I’m pretty sure that RFK was going to have the president’s ear whether he was in office or not,” he said.

While Kennedy’s efforts to roll back federal vaccine recommendations are being blocked by courts, this week reported that the number of measles cases confirmed in the U.S. so far in 2026 has exceeded the total for 2025 — making it the highest number of cases in 35 years.

Cassidy, a principal author of the 2020 No Surprises Act targeting surprise medical bills, also said he doesn’t think Congress needs to make modifications to the law in the wake of reports that doctors and other healthcare providers are winning huge payouts under the arbitration system the law created. The No Surprises Act was intended to shield patients from receiving big bills for receiving medical care they didn’t know was outside their health plan’s network.

An analysis by this week found that providers were awarded nearly $15 billion in disputed claims in 2025, more than triple the 2024 figure of $4.08 billion.

“The initial step to make sure that people are getting their best deal is price transparency,” Cassidy said.

The HELP Committee on July 22 overwhelmingly approved advancing the Patients Deserve Price Tags Act, a bipartisan bill that would further expand the requirements that hospitals, insurers, and other healthcare providers make prices public and available to patients and employers. A House committee advanced a similar bill this week, also with bipartisan support, but it remains unclear whether either measure will be approved by the full House and Senate.

The interview — in which Cassidy also discussed his — was part of the “How Would You Fix It?” series featuring Julie Rovner, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ chief Washington correspondent and host of the What the Health? podcast.

An abbreviated version of this interview aired July 23 in Episode 456 of What the Health? From ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ: “A Shrinking Safety Net.”

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

For the first time in a quarter century, the U.S. no longer meets a main criterion for having eliminated measles as a public health threat. That status hinges on sporadic outbreaks fizzling out within a year. Utah’s outbreak has lasted for longer, since .

Nearly 400 people have been hospitalized with measles in the U.S. this year and last, three people have died, and at least three suffered with .

This month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is set to finalize a comprehensive study of the nation’s measles situation, examining data from January 2025 through June 2026.

“I don’t think we could say with a straight face that there hasn’t been transmission over the past 12 months,” said a CDC scientist with knowledge of the agency’s measles report. (³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name the researcher, who is concerned about retaliation.) The researcher said a national committee of measles specialists will review the CDC’s internal report, which then goes to the Pan American Health Organization, a group that evaluates the measles elimination status of countries throughout North, South, and Central America and the Caribbean.

PAHO will make at an annual meeting this fall, but scientists say the writing is on the wall. “The assessment for elimination isn’t until November, but that is a scheduling issue, basically,” said Anne Schuchat, who led the CDC’s immunization and respiratory disease group from 2006 to 2015.

“It’s just so sad, because some people will get brutally ill,” she said of measles’ return. “This is a wake-up call.”

Pediatricians in Utah have been on the front lines as measles and other vaccine-preventable ailments have returned to the U.S. In interviews with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, six doctors shared insights on this new era of vaccine hesitancy — and what could be done to turn the situation around.

The conversations have been edited for clarity.

On Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized With Measles Complications

Emilie Morris, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: When children come in, they’re often bent over. We call it tripoding, which is particular to upper respiratory infections and airway swelling. They have a rash — viruses cause rashes all the time — but in this context, the kid is hunched over, mouth open, drooling, crying, maybe not even producing tears, because they’re so dehydrated. Really labored breathing, kind of tugging in their belly, tugging between their ribs. Their eyes look kind of glazed over. It’s like they’re seeing through you.

Nathan Money, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: If the child has a fever or trouble breathing, and they’re unvaccinated, I have to be way more aggressive from a medical standpoint, because they are at higher risk of having life-threatening illnesses. I have to do more blood work, or lumbar punctures to rule out meningitis. I have to do things which are painful, and it’s traumatic for the families.

I tell them, “Because your child doesn’t have vaccines, I have to be more worried about conditions like sepsis or meningitis, so therefore I need to do more workup.” The last thing I want to do is miss something. These are parents who love their children. They always tell me, “Do what you need to do to make sure my child is safe.”

On Treating Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized for Measles

Trahern W. Jones, a pediatric infectious disease specialist based in Salt Lake City: So I’m coming into a room and just hearing the most awful barking cough, just a cough and a high-pitch stridor as the child is trying to breathe. And he’s just coughing so hard it just makes you feel short of breath. He looks like he’s been beaten down for days, but he can’t rest, because the cough keeps him awake.

The parents tell me they’re not anti-vaccine, but in the past, somebody they know had a reaction to a vaccine — or something they thought was a reaction to a vaccine — and so they paused vaccines when the child was a baby. They were planning to catch up later.

In another case, the parent was stunned by how awful it was. I asked them what they knew about measles before their child was sick, and they said the only person who’d ever taught them anything about measles was their grandmother who had taken care of her kids with measles ages ago. That’s something I’ve heard from other parents. It’s such an awful illness. Even the best possible course is going to be one of the worst diseases most children ever go through.

There are multiple facets to it. Physically, the child has been beat down for multiple days by this virus. The parents don’t get to sleep, because they’re nursing their child. Then there’s the emotional component because the parent is regretting not getting the vaccine, not realizing how bad this was, and then feeling deeply ashamed, trying to reconcile with family members who are really upset at them for not getting their child vaccinated.

Morris: One child was from a family that was uninsured because they didn’t feel that they would need to use the medical system. They were faced with the high burden of cost of our healthcare system. The cost was playing into the parents’ decision on whether or not their child should receive necessary medical care. I said something like: “Please don’t go home. Your child needs oxygen. She has pneumonia. We will figure out a way to pay for this, because we acknowledge what we do is expensive.”

On top of that, the parent had several other children in the home who weren’t vaccinated. It was past the period where we could intervene with vaccines to try to prevent infection, so then our recommendation was to quarantine their children at home for 21 days: “Don’t interact with anybody else in your community. Don’t go to the grocery store, even with a mask. Please take this seriously.”

It takes time for parents to understand the level of concern I have, even when their child is physically ill in the hospital requiring ongoing care. It’s pretty indicative of the breakdown of trust between physicians and families. I say, “This is the gravity or severity of your child’s situation and how serious we need to be about protecting other people.”

It’s frustrating. How can I make people understand I have a very genuine concern for their child? And I know they share that concern, but maybe it’s not the same degree of concern, because they don’t understand the illness and how severe it can become.

Money: It’s heartbreaking to see these children struggling to survive when measles could have been easily prevented by a safe mechanism that is readily available and well studied. These are well-meaning parents who love their children, who have gotten bad information from federal leadership or from online sources. The saddest part to me is when I am caring for a child and the parent says, “I didn’t know that this could get so bad.”

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On Conversations With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Tim Duffy, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County: A lot of families aren’t aggressively anti-vax, but they’re hesitant. Younger parents who grew up in the digital age have done their research — “research” in quotation marks — for months. And they keep getting confirmation of their concerns on social media. They think they’re doing what’s best for their child.

I’ve told families: “You could do nothing I say as a pediatrician. You could sleep your child on their stomach. You could not put them in a car seat or, when they’re older, not use seat belts. You could do nothing I say, and for your individual child, they will probably be OK. But from my standpoint, where I’m taking care of thousands of kids, within a system that takes care of hundreds of thousands of kids, we will have bad outcomes. These children will show up at our facilities, and it’s so sad.”

Pediatrician in southern Utah whom ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name, because of concerns about harassment after being targeted by anti-vaccine activists in the past: A lot of parents are concerned about autism. I’ve told them that I’d be very concerned if there was any evidence that what we’re doing is causing autism. But if vaccines were causing autism, we should see more cases of autism in vaccinated kids compared to unvaccinated kids, and we’re just not seeing that.

I’ve also had families who say they want to be natural, or that they’re concerned about what is in the shots. A frequently asked question is: “Did you vaccinate your children?” I say that knowing what I know, I’m confident giving this to my kids. They’re all vaccinated.

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On the Influence of Politics on Vaccine Hesitancy

Jones: Vaccines have become a political football. That wasn’t true 20 years ago. But now it’s used to drive a wedge between groups of people, which is unfortunate. Vaccines are one of the main reasons why we don’t have to worry about losing our kids.

Southern Utah pediatrician: People don’t know who to believe. If politics comes up, I tell parents that my messaging on vaccines is not politically motivated. When parents ask about changes to the vaccine schedule, I’m transparent. [In January, the Department of Health and Human Services reducing the number of vaccines given to children. A few months later, a federal judge blocked those changes.]

I’ve said there was a process for the approval of immunizations through ACIP [the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices], which is made up of scientists, public health experts, and doctors, and all those people were let go, and a new panel was selected. A couple of individuals changed the recommendation outside of the time-tested, evidence-based process for evaluating vaccines. That raises concerns for me as a doctor. I tell parents that the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Academy of Family Physicians, and several other professional organizations have issued statements saying that these changes are not based on evidence.

Ellie Brownstein, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County and president-elect of the Utah chapter of the American Academy of Pediatrics: I avoid talking about politics, but what’s being said has added another layer to our work. One family asked me about changes to vaccine recommendations, so instead of just telling them what immunizations are due, I talk with them about why physicians and researchers have followed a different schedule for years, about the reasoning and the science behind it. I explain that I trust these experts over someone without a lot of experience.

Money: People are not vaccinated, because they’ve lost trust in the medical community. They’re placing trust elsewhere. Rebuilding trust is a complicated process, but it comes from consistent messaging at every level, from the pediatrician to local health departments to community leaders, city leadership, district leadership, religious leadership, educational leadership.

We need consistent messaging from state leadership, which has been pretty absent. I want to see commercials on TV about the safety of the MMR [measles, mumps, and rubella] vaccine and the dangers of the measles, sponsored by my state leadership. I’d like to see this on billboards and in schools, in public buildings and grocery stores. I want to go to a sports event and see messages about the measles and the MMR vaccine. Right now, people have to go out of their way to find information from reputable sources.

We also need policy changes to support vaccination. This train is going in the wrong direction, and it can feel like a helpless situation, because we’re just not seeing the public messaging and leadership that’s needed to turn this around.

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Advice on Talking With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Jones: Approach them with as much compassion as you possibly can. Ask open-ended questions to learn about their experiences that led them to have these concerns. I think it’s really important to not come down on them, citing facts and figures and pointing to guidelines on why they need to get their kids vaccinated. But try to direct their attention to the fact that you’re a real person with your own real experiences and knowledge. I point out to families that I have my own kids, and I would never recommend something for your kids that I wouldn’t do for mine.

Southern Utah pediatrician: I’ve learned that if you come down hard, you’re going to lose people who need care. My number one goal now is to build bridges and maintain a relationship with families, because that’s what’s going to allow me to convince some of them.

I approach people differently depending on where they are. Parents who are very skeptical or anti-vax will say no when I tell them their child is due for immunizations. I’ll say: “Fine. You guys get to choose. You’re the parents. But I’m curious to know what your reasoning is.” Sometimes they’re just like, “It’s something I’ve decided.” They don’t want to have a conversation.

It’s a good day if I can have a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to vaccinate, even if I don’t convince them. I try to help them think through things rather than shoving anything down their throat. When they’re done talking, I’ll ask, “Can I share my perspectives on this?” Some will say yes enthusiastically, and others will say yes because they’re being polite.

A lot of parents aren’t sure what to do, and those are the people I focus most of my time on. I focus our conversation on their specific concerns, and I’m open about specific side effects that different immunizations can have. For example, I’ll tell them that some children get a fever after a vaccine, which is OK. The fever is not harmful, but it can make babies feel crummy as their body is building up antibodies against viruses and bacteria.

Brownstein: I don’t like the idea of excluding unvaccinated kids from my practice. I know some do that. But what that does is it ends any future discussion. I can’t keep talking with parents about vaccines if I kick them out of my practice, and if these parents find like-minded doctors, this situation will get worse.

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On Being on the Front Lines of Measles’ Comeback in the U.S.

Money: I wish that people could see what I see. Everyone else sees what people post on Instagram. Or they think, “Someone I know had measles when they were a kid and they were fine.” But as a hospital-based pediatrician, I see what happens when things go poorly. I see what happens when children with measles aren’t able to breathe on their own, and they’re in a hospital bed with a cannula in their nose, struggling to breathe, an IV in their arm because they can’t drink on their own. And the child is terrified, and the parents are scared that their child might die.

It’s heartbreaking as a pediatrician and as a father to know that the entire situation could have been easily prevented.

Duffy: Even though parents say vaccination is their choice, I still feel personally responsible if something bad happens that’s preventable, because I feel like I didn’t say the right thing, I didn’t ask the right questions. Maybe I let it drop because of the look on a parent’s face.

Morris: Every pediatrician I know cares so deeply about what they do. Sometimes people forget that we are human beings practicing this discipline, and we bring all our concerns for our community into this space. I’m trying to navigate a lot of complex human emotions, like how it feels to hold grief with a family when something bad happens that was preventable — which is the worst situation, because you think, “Could I have done something differently?”

Jones: I think we’ll see more diseases start coming back that we thought we had gotten rid of. I think it’s going to take dramatic changes to actually prevent those outcomes. I’m not necessarily seeing those changes being done by those in power.

I think of that quote from The Lord of the Rings. It’s something like, you don’t get to choose the time that you’re born into, but you get to choose what you’re going to do about it. And if there’s any comfort that I have, it’s in knowing that there are right decisions to make and that I’m going to make them, and I’m going to help others make them, too.

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

The ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ Minute is available every Thursday via direct download or the RSS feed.

July 23

Jackie Fortiér reads this week’s news: Coverage disruptions can have fatal consequences when switching health plans. Plus, more states are shaming employers that use your tax dollars to cover health costs for their low-income workers.

Can’t see the audio player? Visit kffhealthnews.org to listen.

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

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.

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.

“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.

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.”

‘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.”

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

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.

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.”

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.

Silence in Sikeston

Watch: New Documentary Film Explores a Lynching and a Police Killing 78 Years Apart

The “Silence in Sikeston” documentary film explores how the nation’s first federally investigated lynching and a police killing 78 years apart haunt the same rural Missouri community. The film from ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and Retro Report explores the lasting impact of such trauma — and what it means to speak out about it.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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Related Article

No One Wants To Talk About Racial Trauma. Why My Family Broke Our Silence.

Every family has secrets. I spent the past few years reporting about racial violence in Sikeston, Missouri. Interviewing Black families there helped me uncover my family’s traumatic past, too.

By Cara Anthony Sept. 13, 2024

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

In June, Vincent Munster, an infectious disease researcher at the National Institutes of Health, was charged with bringing biological specimens into the U.S. without proper documents. Weeks later, Sen. Rand Paul (R-Ky.) ordered Anthony Fauci, Munster’s former boss, to appear before a Senate committee, alleging that he’d lied to Congress about the covid-19 pandemic’s origins. This spring, the FBI detained a former aide to Fauci, and federal officials banned a virus researcher in North Carolina from receiving federal funding.

In each case, senior U.S. officials and members of Congress have leaned into unproven theories that arrogant scientists damaged rather than protected public health by recklessly experimenting with covid and other killer viruses, including in China.

Conservative groups and social influencers have amplified that view through a whirlwind of covid conspiracy theories, bioterrorism fearmongering, and anti-immigration sentiment. The recent charges stirred long-held mistrust of the high-security Rocky Mountain Laboratories, where Munster works, among residents of this blue-collar mountain town in Montana built on logging.

A dozen scientists interviewed for this article said that any crimes or errors committed by Munster, who was transporting vials of inactivated mpox for research purposes, seemed to be over paperwork and posed no threat to the public. Nonetheless, some colleagues in Montana said, the alleged improprieties needlessly bat a hornet’s nest.

“This just gives ammunition to the people that are trying to stop this valuable research,” said Kim Hasenkrug, a scientist emeritus at the NIH who worked at Rocky Mountain Labs for 31 years. “Even people who have trusted us in the past, this sows seeds of distrust. How could it not?”

Cuts to U.S. foreign aid and research funding have left tens of millions of dollars in gaps in the fight against spreading Ebola and mpox outbreaks, scientists told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. “When the next pandemic comes around and we need vaccines to protect ourselves, the chances are that China will develop them before we do,” said Kristian Andersen, an evolutionary biologist at Scripps Research. Andersen co-authored studies that stoked the ire of proponents of the theory that a lab leak started the covid pandemic.

Emily Hilliard, a spokesperson for the Department of Health and Human Services, which includes the NIH, said the federal government “remains fully equipped to protect Americans and respond to emerging public health threats.” She said the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had deployed experts domestically and internationally to respond to Ebola.

Scientists like Munster are indispensable for figuring out the source of pandemic viruses, whether bats, pigs, rats, or some other animal, Andersen said. Munster “is the person who goes out to Africa to get samples of bad viruses from people,” said Stanley Perlman, a virologist at the University of Iowa and a longtime member of the FDA’s vaccine advisory panel. “He’s done lots of things that needed to be done, and he does them well.”

Authorities arrested Munster and Claude Kwe, a research fellow at Rocky Mountain Labs, June 2 on charges of conspiracy to smuggle mpox into the United States and lying to border agents. They had been stopped Jan. 25 at the Detroit airport after returning from the Republic of Congo.

The announcing the charges said FBI testing had confirmed the viruses were inactivated — Munster helped — but that the scientists jeopardized Americans’ safety.

“These NIH experts apparently broke our laws by smuggling viral pathogens on a packed commercial airplane from an outbreak in the Republic of Congo. Let that sink in,” said Jerome Gorgon, U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of Michigan.

The says Munster and Kwe falsely told customs agents the mpox specimens they brought back were for diagnostic use. Yet several scientists told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ that the specimens most likely were indeed for use in developing mpox diagnostic tests.

The complaint also states that the scientists lacked the appropriate documents. requires researchers to register and certify inactivated viruses.

“He is presumed innocent and we will have to await future proceedings before commenting,” Kwe’s federal community defender, Benton Martin, said of his client.

In Montana, Marshall Bloom, an associate director at Rocky Mountain Labs, told the Ravalli County Board of Health in a July meeting that the scientists have been suspended and aren’t allowed on campus amid an internal NIH investigation. “These are not trivial accusations,” Bloom said.

It is not illegal or unheard of to take an inactivated virus on a plane. If the samples were inactive, “the risk is zero,” said Daniel Jernigan, who worked for 26 years at the CDC and led its National Center for Emerging and Zoonotic Infectious Diseases until retiring last August.

“But you have to have the documentation available,” he added.

Jernigan recalled reprimands issued for this sort of lapse but knew of no arrests.

“In this climate,” Perlman said, “you’d want to make sure you talk to people at your institution to make sure any i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed.”

Munster’s attorney didn’t respond to multiple interview requests.

Skeptical Neighbors

Conservative politicians and others skeptical of the nation’s covid response have had Munster and Rocky Mountain Labs on their radar for years.

The facility is in Hamilton, a town of 5,000 in rural Ravalli County, which gave President Donald Trump 69% of its vote in 2024. The lab got its start with studies of Rocky Mountain spotted fever in the 1900s, when ranchers and cattle were dying from the then-unknown disease.

Today it is a Biosafety Level 4 facility, one of only several dozen labs in the world to employ the highest level of safety controls that enable scientists to study the deadliest pathogens.

Munster and his laboratory of viral ecology are known as the “go-to group for highly dangerous viruses” such as Middle East respiratory syndrome, Nipah, Ebola, and bird flu, said zoologist Peter Daszak, whose work has also been targeted in recent years. Munster “goes into red zones,” gets samples from sick people, and makes diagnostic tests that help assess an outbreak and how to stop it, Daszak said.

Munster and his colleagues contributed to studies of , , and — work that put the lab in the crosshairs of people warning about the dangers of biomedical research.

In April, the White Coat Waste Project, a self-described government watchdog group to stop tax-funded animal testing, paid for billboards across seven cities with NIH-funded labs, including Hamilton.

The next month, about the investigation into Munster, citing an anonymous letter. That caught the attention of Laura Loomer, a far-right activist known as a loyalty enforcer for Trump who has the president’s ear. She posted about it to her 1.9 million followers on the social platform X.

“Fauci Holdovers at @NIH and @HHSGov are about to unleash Ebola in America,” Loomer posted on May 17, asking why Munster, who is Dutch, and Kwe, from Cameroon, weren’t imprisoned or deported.

Little more than a week later, Montana Republican U.S. Sen. Tim Sheehy sent a letter to HHS calling for an investigation, saying the alleged improper behavior by the scientists could threaten national security.

Munster and Kwe were charged days later. U.S. Rep. Paul Gosar, an Arizona Republican, in mid-July as a reason to close the Hamilton facility, part of his ongoing “Fauci-era programs.”

The arrests added to local apprehensions about the facility.

 “You can’t pick and choose which rules you follow when you’re dealing with this stuff,” County Commissioner Jeff Burrows said at a June meeting. “And I know he’s innocent until proven guilty, but for God’s sakes, this is a big deal.”

The Ongoing Push To Blame Fauci

About two weeks after the charges, departing Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard released declassified documents that she said proved Fauci had lied to Congress about NIH-funded research at the Wuhan Institute of Virology, the lab that, in her words, “sparked covid.” The documents, however, provide no new evidence that the lab launched the covid virus. Most, though not all, virus experts think the best evidence indicates the virus jumped from bats to other animals, and then to humans at a Wuhan market.

of the lab-leak theory have issued fresh calls to punish Fauci, 85, and scientists his institute funded. Fauci declined to comment for this article.

Shortly after Gabbard’s report, Paul, who chairs the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee, subpoenaed Fauci to testify before the committee.

Fauci “was Dr. Frankenstein of the modern era” and “has the blood of millions of people on his hands,” Peter Navarro, a senior adviser to Trump, on June 25. “You idiot! … You need to come clean, Fauci.”

The administration’s mistrust of the federal bureaucracy and the scientific work it has funded has led to broad cuts and staffing losses, including in .

A May 2025 suspended research on many risky viruses, and HHS later halted an $82 million, that funded research into emerging viruses by 10 labs across the world. In late May this year, the White House that would give political appointees sweeping power over all federally funded science.

Prominent covid experts and scientists close to Fauci have been called before congressional committees, barred from receiving government grants, or arrested.

In April, heavily armed FBI agents of David Morens, Fauci’s 78-year-old former aide. They forced him to strip to his underwear and drove him in handcuffs 40 miles to a federal courthouse, where he was briefly jailed, according to Science magazine. Morens’ case is pending.

In May, HHS told Ralph Baric, a University of North Carolina coronavirus expert, that it was halting his federal funding because of a “pattern of deception” in his communications with the NIH. .

In some ways, the arrests of Munster and Kwe felt unsurprising, said Philip Stewart, a recently retired Rocky Mountain Labs researcher focused on tick-borne diseases.

“There is an anti-science movement,” Stewart said. “We are targets, and if it hadn’t been Vincent, it would have been someone else.”

Most Americans believe in the lab-leak theory, according to surveys, and several U.S. intelligence agencies lean in that direction. That makes targeting scientists who do that kind of work politically expedient, said Daszak, whose NIH-funded nonprofit worked with Chinese virologists in Wuhan and has been under scrutiny since April 2020, when Trump his funding ended.

Animal viruses jump to humans in the wild a year, usually producing negligible infections, occasionally sparking an outbreak. The Ebola virus causing the current African epidemic may have originated in bats, which seem to carry it without getting sick.

Doctors on the ground in the Democratic Republic of Congo lacked diagnostic tests . Munster, who has extensively researched Ebola, was locked out of his lab soon after the January detention.

“While we sit around removing pandemic preparedness grants, arresting scientists, locking them up in some cases,” Daszak said, “viruses are out there evolving.”

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