Every government document I sign comes with a familiar warning: “I certify that the information provided is true and correct.” There’s always a reminder that “false statements could lead to civil penalties” and that “federal fees may apply.”
I’ve been signing off on these kinds of documents since the days of Ronald Reagan.
People in America don’t need another report reiterating the obvious. What they really need is accountability.
For 40 years, I’ve faced medical crises. My wife has gone through almost 100 surgeries, several amputations, endless hospital stays, and a mountain of insurance and medical bills. Over these decades, I’ve grasped something that countless family caregivers know too well: what isn’t checked isn’t taken seriously.
Long before technology took over with smartphones and electronic records, I was at my kitchen table armed with a pencil, calculator, and phone, scrutinizing benefit statements, medical bills, and insurance claims. I’ve squared off with surgeons, hospital administrators, insurance executives, case managers, billing departments—you name it. I’ve managed to win all but two arguments, because failure to do so meant my wife paid the price. The fallout from their errors ended up right in my living room.
When it’s a matter of a loved one’s health and financial wellbeing, you learn quickly how to advocate fiercely, remaining present long after others have walked away. That’s simply what advocates do. The stakes are incredibly real.
It makes you wonder, what if our elected officials approached their duties with just a fraction of that urgency?
As we near the 250th anniversary of our nation, there’s excitement about celebrations, monuments, and fireworks displays. That’s all well and good—I’m a fan of fireworks myself. But let’s remember, the colonists didn’t risk everything for mere fireworks. The Stamp Act wasn’t just about stamps; it was about holding the government accountable. It raised the critical question: can a government impose burdens on its people and remain unscathed by the fallout?
Two centuries and fifty years later, this question still resonates.
Over 65 million Americans serve as family caregivers, contributing an estimated $1.2 trillion in unpaid care every year. We’re keeping loved ones out of institutions, lessening the strain on taxpayers, and taking on responsibilities that could easily overwhelm public systems. We have no lobbyists or communications directors—only kitchen tables cluttered with bills—and we all rely on the loved ones we care for to be there tomorrow.
Then, I turn on the news and see stories of fraud. I see government agencies mishandling funds, programs racking up billions with nothing to show for it, and officials departing with cozy retirements despite their failures, while the average American shoulders the burden.
In *The Dark Knight*, the Joker quips, “It’s all part of the plan.” After years of watching glaring failures go unchecked, cynicism tends to feel more like learned experience than mere paranoia.
Spotting fraud is important. But simply identifying it doesn’t solve anything.
If you find an error on your medical bill, yet no one addresses the issue, the problem persists. It’s frustrating—I’ve documented my findings, but if there’s no action, it’s just that: documentation of my frustration. Eventually, a process of discovery without subsequent action becomes somewhat meaningless.
Countless reports, audits, and investigations have assessed fraud. Great! But what’s the outcome?
Recognizing fraud is essential, but that’s only one part. We must scrutinize who looked the other way, who facilitated the fraud, who profited from it, and who failed to intervene.
And if those individuals hold positions of power, what repercussions should they face? A lost job? A terminated contract? Public accountability? Should criminal prosecutions be on the table, or will they simply keep moving forward while the public continues to pay the price?
This approach won’t fix the system; it merely changes the players involved.
Most Americans live under the threat of perjury. I’m reminded of that each time I sign something. If someone intentionally misrepresents information, they face consequences. So, why shouldn’t those entrusted with billions of tax dollars be held to the same standard as those of us footing the bill?
If fraud is uncovered, hold those accountable and publicly name them. When someone deliberately breaks the public’s trust, they must face consequences—not for vengeance, but for management.
I’m currently undergoing cancer treatment while also caring for my wife, who’s faced a severe disability for four decades. If I sound frustrated with waste and fraud, it’s because I’ve spent much of my life paying for others’ errors.
Millions of caregivers relate to this feeling. We’re exhausted in ways that can be hard to articulate to those who haven’t lived this life. Sustained anger requires energy we often don’t have, but we are paying attention.
The Bible mentions, “When the righteous increase, the people rejoice; but when the wicked rule, they groan” (Proverbs 29:2).
There’s a lot of groaning in this country. I hear it in hospital waiting areas, support groups for caregivers, and from people pouring over bills into the early hours.
Americans don’t need yet another report reaffirming the obvious. What they require is accountability. They deserve leaders willing to hold their governments to the same standards they impose on us.
For too long, ordinary people have borne the fallout of governmental failures. It’s time for responsibility to shift where it belongs.
