Nevada State Senator Ira Hansen has placed Attorney General Aaron Ford on notice, demanding answers regarding the state’s failed fiber optic project, in which $9 million in public funds remain unaccounted for. The controversy has deepened as the attorney representing Uprise, the troubled internet company at the center of the scandal, seeks to withdraw from the case following revelations of financial mismanagement.
The fallout comes after the resignation of Uprise’s owner from his family’s investment business, raising further concerns about the company’s stability. Meanwhile, Comm NV has taken legal action against Uprise and the Nevada Department of Transportation (NDOT) for non-payment, intensifying scrutiny over the failed project planned for Lovelock.
Law enforcement agencies, including the Washoe County Sheriff’s Office, the Nevada Attorney General’s Office, and the FBI, have launched a criminal investigation into the matter. With millions in state funds missing and no progress on the optic infrastructure, questions about oversight and accountability continue to mount.
Since assuming office in 2014, Reno Mayor Hilary Schieve has received credit for various initiatives revitalizing the city. Supporters frequently highlight her achievements, while critics question the accuracy of the claims and point to concerns over transparency, homelessness, and financial priorities.
A significant point of discussion is the city’s financial health. Schieve “reduced debt by approximately $385 million with the reduction over the last years being the fastest reduction in the history of Reno.”
However, an examination of available financial records indicates that the city’s total debt decreased from $648 million in 2009 to $515 million by 2014, before Schieve’s tenure. As of July 1, 2024, the city’s debt stood at $494 million, reflecting a modest reduction.
In 2018, the city refinanced the RETRAC bonds, which had an outstanding balance of approximately $230 million. By 2024, this balance was about $204 million, with the bonds’ maturity extended to 2058.
While it reduced short-term debt payments, it prolonged the city’s financial obligations. Some critics argue this refinancing was more of a restructuring than a reduction.
Schieve also worked to revitalize Reno’s MidTown District, promoting affordable housing and enhancing mental health services. Her leadership contributed to Reno receiving a $30,000 National Endowment for the Arts grant for a public art project.
Additionally, she has been instrumental in downtown redevelopment projects, including renovating the historic Crest Motel into the Renova units. However, out of 18 motels demolished, only the Crest Motel has been renovated, with limited progress on other properties acquired for redevelopment.
Critics argue that while the mayor has supported developers like Jacobs Entertainment in their efforts to clear out blighted properties, she has failed to ensure follow-through on promised affordable housing. Many of the lots remain vacant, with no clear plans for future development.
Reno has also faced growing criticism for its handling of homelessness. During Schieve’s tenure, the city has implemented sweeps of homeless encampments, pushing many unsheltered individuals out of downtown and into surrounding areas.
While the Nevada Cares Campus was to provide shelter, some advocates argue it is poorly managed and has not significantly reduced homelessness. In 2023, Reno was sued over its treatment of homeless residents, adding to the controversy.
In 2023, Schieve was elected President of the U.S. Conference of Mayors. Under her leadership, Reno’s General Obligation Limited Tax bond ratings were upgraded to Aa3 from A1 by Moody’s, reflecting confidence in the city’s economic stability.
However, her administration has also faced criticism for a perceived lack of transparency. One of the most significant controversies arose in late 2022 when Schieve sued a private investigator for tracking her vehicle with a GPS device.
The case raised questions about privacy, political opposition, and city governance. The lawsuit revealed that a political opponent hired the investigator, drawing attention to Shieve’s involvement in closed-door meetings and refusal to disclose certain city dealings.
Additionally, critics have accused Schieve of favoring insiders and politically connected individuals. Richard Jay, one of her most vocal supporters, serves on several boards, including the Reno-Tahoe Airport Authority and the Reno-Sparks Convention and Visitors Authority, each requiring mayoral appointments.
Some argue that this level of insider support raises concerns about accountability and decision-making within city government. Jay defends Schieve’s record on social media, often challenging critics to disprove claims of her success.
Now, there once was a young feller in a town so small you could holler across it and still have breath to spare. This boy, call him Jimmy for the sake of the story, had a mind wider than the town and a knack for dreamin’ larger still.
Most nights, he’d lie in his room, his radio buzzin’ like a hive of bees with no queen. He’d twist the dials, chasing the voice of adventure but mostly catching static.
Static—that’s what Jimmy lived on.
One night, when he was about to give it up as a lost cause, the radio barked to life like an old dog with a new trick. There came a sound, a voice rich with promise, and Jimmy swore it carried the secrets of the world right there in the hum.
Before he could think better of it, he decided then and there: if a fella could saunter out to Hollywood and end up plastered on silver screens, then by thunder, so could he. He’d get his picture in a Picture Show or bust a gut trying.
You might think his folks would cheer him on, but that’s where you’d be wrong. His daddy, a practical man who knew a nickel’s worth but not the weight of a dream, told him to stop all this foolishness. “Jimmy,” he said, “there’s a whole world of hard work waitin’ right here if you’d only set your shoulders to it.”
His mamma, though, well, she wasn’t around to object. She’d gone on to glory some years back, and Jimmy sometimes thought it was her voice riding the static, tellin’ him to go on and give life a wallop.
So, Jimmy did just that. He packed his dreams into a knapsack, kissed his old man on the cheek to the poor fella’s befuddlement, and lit out of town.
Whether he made it big or scraped his meals out of the margins, that’s a tale for another time. But I reckon if you ever find yourself sittin’ in the flickering glow of a Picture Show, and you see some scrappy kid with a wild look in his eyes, you might just be watchin’ Jimmy, finally chasin’ that static down to its roots.
The air was cold and still on Gordon and Brown streets when they found him, an older gent, unmoving in his car. The call came in around 4:30 in the afternoon.
Someone had seen him, noticed he wasn’t right, and did what a good citizen does. They called it in.
Carson City Fire and the sheriff’s deputies rolled up, knowing what they would find. It doesn’t take long in a place like this to realize when a man has passed on.
The paramedics confirmed it. Sheriff Ken Furlong said there was no reason to suspect anything foul.
The man was old, and the body gave out. That’s how it is.
“The older gentleman is deceased. There’s nothing suspicious at this point and time,” Furlong said.
They’ll investigate, of course. That’s the job.
But death comes, and it comes for a lot of folks who never had a fair shake. Some worked their whole lives to be forgotten, while others sat in their car and faded away.
The Democrats in Nevada are in a state of alarm. They should be.
The Trump administration is doing what it does best—cutting through waste and ensuring taxpayer money doesn’t rot in bureaucratic slush funds.
On Wednesday, Democratic leaders warned that the state might lose millions in unspent American Rescue Plan Act (ARPA) funds, but the truth is that the money isn’t theirs to hoard. Senate Majority Leader Nicole Cannizzaro and Assembly Speaker Steve Yeager made their concerns known during a meeting of the Interim Finance Committee.
Their worry arose after Senate Minority Leader Robin Titus, a Republican, dismissed the panic as unfounded.
“There’s a lot of worry and a lot of panic out there,” said Titus, the Republican voice of reason. “I’m not sure anyone really knows for sure. But we do know that we have these (ARPA) funds in bank accounts, earning interest for the State of Nevada, and they’re there.”
Nevada received $2.7 billion from ARPA, with nearly half—about $1.3 billion—still sitting there, unspent. And yet, the Democrats act as if it has already been lost, rather than admitting sitting on it while everyday Nevadans struggle.
Trump, not one to let bloated spending slip through the cracks, issued an executive order Monday freezing federal grants and loans, throwing the usual D.C. bureaucrats and state-level spenders into a frenzy. Legal challenges followed, with a federal judge blocking the freeze. Another judge, predictably, appeared ready to do the same on Wednesday.
The money isn’t gone—it just isn’t being thrown around carelessly, and that’s what frustrates Democrats.
Cannizzaro, eager to stir fear, pushed back.
“I don’t think we have that much clarity,” she said, citing conversations with state agencies unsure what the funding freeze might affect.
Yeager, another Democrat scrambling to keep federal dollars flowing unchecked, urged state agencies to spend the money “as quickly as you can” before Trump could reclaim it. That advice speaks volumes.
If the funds are for essential projects, then what’s the sudden rush?
According to reports, the remaining funds are for housing initiatives, broadband expansion, public health infrastructure, education, and childcare. All noble causes on paper, but with billions still unspent, the question isn’t whether Trump is overreaching—it’s why hasn’t the money been put to use.
Legal experts, predictably aligned against Trump, claim the executive orders represent an overstep of presidential power. But the real issue is whether taxpayer money should sit idle in government accounts, waiting for the next spending spree, or whether a businessman-turned-president has the right to demand accountability.
The land was quiet before they came. The wind moved through the pass, and the people went there like always.
They called it Peehee mu’huh, Rotten Moon, because of what had happened long ago.
The soldiers came in 1865, and they left bodies behind. The blood dried, and the people remembered.
The miners followed. The Bureau of Land Management gave them a permit.
They wanted lithium. They said the country needed it. They authorized the permit in January 2021.
The pandemic made things bad. Tribal offices were closed. The virus had taken too many.
There was no consultation, but the digging began anyway. The United States had signed papers agreeing to protect Indigenous rights, but the law did not require it.
The Winnemucca Indian Colony and the Summit Lake Paiute Tribe said no. The Reno-Sparks Indian Colony, the Burns Paiute Tribe, and the Duck Valley Shoshone-Paiute Tribe said no.
They fought in the courts. The Duck Valley Shoshone-Paiute wrote to the United Nations.
The land was sacred. It had been for a long time.
But the mine went up. A fence came first—barbed wire and signs telling the people to stay away.
They guarded the road, the old places where they had gathered food and medicine locked behind gates. Lithium Americas said they had done what was required, following the law.
A report came out. Human Rights Watch and the ACLU said the mine was illegal under international law. The government had not gotten consent.
The consultation had been rushed, done poorly, done in a way that made sure it would not change anything.
The mine is still there. The earth is being torn open.
In Nevada, candidates and political action committees must file campaign finance reports on time or risk fines of up to $10,000. But in practice, these penalties rarely translate into full payments.
Over the first 11 months of 2024, the Nevada Secretary of State’s Office assessed more than $440,000 in fines for campaign finance violations. One of the largest—more than $20,000—was levied against the PAC tied to Attorney General Aaron Ford—for which no one is surprised.
Despite these figures, most fines remain unpaid, with many likely to be waived or reduced. The state has little means of enforcement.
The only tool—filing a lawsuit—is too costly and time-consuming, which is why Secretary of State Cisco Aguilar has not pursued a single case in his two years in office.
The problem has prompted officials to push for reform in this year’s legislative session, aiming for a system that ensures accountability without imposing disproportionate penalties. Under current law, candidates and PACs face fines ranging from $25 to $100 each day a report is late, with a $10,000 cap per violation.
However, some of the steepest fines have fallen on candidates in unpaid positions who neither raised nor spent money, contradicting existing rules meant to limit such penalties. Derek Stonebarger, candidate for the Beatty Water and Sanitation Board, was hit with a $18,000 fine—later reduced to $250.
Since 2008, the state has never collected more than $37,000 in campaign finance fines in a single year. During the 2020 election cycle, fines worth more than $2 million were assessed–but over half remain unpaid.
Officials hope legislative changes will provide a balance: strict enough to ensure compliance but reasonable so penalties don’t become punitive exercises in futility.
The Nevada Senate voted 20-0 on Wednesday to ease restrictions on egg sales, sending AB 171 to Governor Joe Lombardo for his signature. The Assembly passed it 41-0 the day before.
The bill, backed by lawmakers and the Nevada Department of Agriculture, would allow retailers to sell eggs from non-cage-free facilities, small local farms, or other classifications in times of emergency or national supply chain disruptions. The Retail Association of Nevada praised the move, calling it a step toward solving the egg shortage.
“Our legislative leaders stepped up to support Nevada’s retailers in bringing more eggs into the state,” said the association’s senior vice president, Bryan Wachter. “We are grateful to the U.S. Humane Society and other stakeholders who joined this process to ensure consumers receive much-needed relief.”
Relief for now, maybe. But Nevadans have seen bipartisanship before.
They looked for him. They found him. They took him in.
The Lyon County Sheriff’s Office Sex Offender Task Force started the hunt on February 6. A man in Fernley. A Tier 3 sex offender who wasn’t playing by the rules.
His name was Rogelio Barocio. Thirty-nine years old.
He was supposed to register. He didn’t.
On February 11, they got him. He’s locked up in the Lyon County Jail on one felony count.
Lyon County has more like him. Too many.
The Sheriff’s Office knows it. They check, they watch, they keep after them.
If a person is on the list, they stay on the list. If they try to slip away, they bring him back.
The Sheriff’s Office says they want total compliance–100 percent.
The people of Lyon County can help. See something, say something.
The law moves fast, but it moves faster with eyes everywhere. Contact the Task Force.
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