There is something deeply unsettling about watching the tools of democracy get turned against democracy itself. Public records laws were never supposed to be controversial. They were built on a simple, beautiful idea: that citizens should be able to see what their government is doing, that sunlight is the best disinfectant, and that transparency keeps power honest. But as a recent CalMatters investigation from October 8, 2026, makes painfully clear, these same tools are now being weaponized by election deniers who are using public records requests not to find truth, but to manufacture suspicion. The investigation, titled “How election deniers are using public records to sow doubt in California,” pulls back the curtain on a coordinated effort by activists and organizations to file endless requests, mine the results for confusing or incomplete data, and then present those fragments as proof of a rigged system. For the rest of us, it is a strange and exhausting experience. We watch as people who claim to love democracy work tirelessly to undermine faith in it, all while asking everyday Americans for money to keep doing so. What makes it even more painful is that the very mechanisms meant to empower ordinary citizens are being exploited by a small group of bad actors, and the rest of us are left to sort through the wreckage of a public square flooded with suspicion.
The investigation highlights a handful of organizations that have turned election skepticism into a fundraising industry. Among them are True the Vote and the Public Interest Legal Foundation, groups that have repeatedly promoted claims of widespread voter fraud that have been debunked, dismissed by courts, or simply never proven. CalMatters describes how these organizations have learned to package fear into donation appeals, using alarming headlines and dramatic narratives to attract financial support from people who genuinely believe they are protecting the integrity of American elections. It is a tragic irony: many of the donors are not cynical operators but sincere citizens, frightened by what they see on social media and desperate to do something. And the organizations know exactly how to reach them. They send emails with subject lines about stolen elections, they publish reports that sound official and alarming, and they ask for money to “fight back.” Meanwhile, the actual evidence for the claims they make is thin, misleading, or entirely absent. The result is a fundraising ecosystem that thrives on confusion, where the product being sold is not truth but anxiety. For regulators, this creates a nightmare scenario. How do you stop people from lying when the lies are dressed up as political speech, and when every attempt to intervene is met with accusations of censorship? The investigation makes clear that the current legal framework is simply not equipped to handle the speed and scale of modern misinformation campaigns.
Part of the problem is that the law offers very little room to act. Political speech enjoys some of the strongest protections under the First Amendment, and that is a good thing. No one wants the government deciding which political claims are acceptable and which are not. But that same protection creates a massive loophole for organizations that use misleading claims to raise money. In theory, California election code restricts knowingly distributing materially deceptive communications. In practice, as CharityWatch CEO and Executive Director Laurie Styron told CalMatters, “by the time justice prevails, if it ever does, the damage is usually already done.” That single sentence captures the frustration of everyone who has ever watched a lie spread faster than the truth. By the time a fact-check is published, a lawsuit is filed, or a regulator finally acts, the narrative has already taken hold. People have already made up their minds. Donations have already been collected. Trust has already been eroded. And even when a group is exposed, the consequences are often minimal. They may rebrand, change their messaging, or simply move on to a new conspiracy. The investigation underscores just how difficult it is for regulators to keep up, not because they lack the will, but because the law was written for a world that no longer exists. It was written for a time when information moved slowly, when corrections could catch up to falsehoods, and when people generally agreed on basic facts. In that world, you could rely on the legal system to sort things out eventually. In our world, eventually is too late.
This is why the role of independent nonprofit oversight has never been more important. CharityWatch, the organization that weighed in on the investigation, exists precisely to help donors see through the noise. For decades, CharityWatch has been evaluating nonprofits not on their marketing, but on their actual performance, their spending, their transparency, and the real-world impact of their work. The organization does not take money from the nonprofits it rates, which means it can say things that other organizations cannot. In a media environment where so much information is filtered through vested interests, that independence is precious. But it also means that CharityWatch has to rely on the public to fund its work. There is no industry behind it, no wealthy nonprofit lobby paying for its research. It is a small organization with a big mission, and it depends on donations from people who simply want to make sure that their generosity is not being exploited. The investigation into election deniers is a perfect example of why this work matters. Without independent watchdogs, donors are left to navigate a landscape where anyone can set up a website, tell a compelling story, and start collecting money. The emotional pull of a story about election fraud is powerful. It taps into real fears about losing the country, about being silenced, about watching something you love be destroyed. But emotional resonance is not the same as evidence, and CharityWatch encourages donors to pause before giving in to that pull. Look at the claims. Look at the sources. Look at whether the organization has a track record of accuracy or a pattern of exaggeration. Ask yourself whether the organization is solving a problem or simply profiting from your fear.
The call to support CharityWatch is not just a request for money. It is a call to protect the very idea of informed giving. When we donate to a nonprofit, we are casting a vote for the kind of world we want to live in. We are saying that we believe in something enough to put our own resources behind it. That is a beautiful thing, and it deserves to be treated with care. But too often, that generosity is exploited by organizations that understand the power of a good story better than the value of the truth. They know that outrage spreads faster than nuance, that fear is more motivating than hope, and that a shocking headline will always outperform a careful analysis. The only defense is vigilance. We need organizations that are willing to speak openly and critically, to call out wrongdoing when they see it, and to do so without worrying that their funding will be cut by the very people they are investigating. That is the role CharityWatch has chosen to play, and it is not an easy one. In a culture that rewards clicks and outrage, quiet accountability is often overlooked. It does not make headlines. It does not go viral. But it matters. It matters every time a donor decides to check a charity before writing a check. It matters every time a misleading claim is exposed before it can do too much damage. And it matters because it reminds us that not everyone is trying to manipulate us. Some people are still trying to protect us.
In the end, the CalMatters investigation is a sobering reminder that the fight for democracy is not just about elections. It is also about the information we consume and the money we give. It is about whether we allow fear to override our judgment, or whether we hold on to the values of transparency, honesty, and accountability even when they are not the easiest or most exciting choices. The organizations highlighted in the investigation may have found a way to profit from doubt, but they have not succeeded in destroying the systems that make our democracy work. Public records are still public. Independent watchdogs still exist. Donors still have the power to choose where their money goes. And every one of us still has the ability to look past the sensational and ask the simple, stubborn question: where is the evidence? That question is the heart of informed giving, and it is the heart of democracy itself. We should not let it be drowned out by those who profit from confusion. Instead, we should support the organizations that ask it on our behalf, read investigations like the one from CalMatters, and commit ourselves to being thoughtful, skeptical, and generous in equal measure. Because the damage done by misinformation is real, but so is the power of an informed public. We just have to be willing to use it. If you believe in that mission, if you want to help CharityWatch continue its work, and if you want to make sure that your giving is guided by truth rather than manipulation, consider making a donation today. It is a small act, but it is part of something much larger: the ongoing, essential effort to keep our democracy honest.