The Sunlight Report

Reports

Published every Tuesday, The Sunlight Report’s dispatches expose government secrecy, uncovering barriers to transparency through persistent records requests.

This Week’s Dispatch

Built to Be Quiet: Inside Wisconsin’s Hidden Layer of Government

By Emily Kordell | Tuesday, June 10, 2025

The Reason We Exist

The Sunlight Report wasn’t built to chase scandals, take down individuals, or compete for front-page space. It was created to expose a blind zone in governance. This zone doesn’t sit at the top. It’s not the governor’s office. It’s not your city council. It’s deeper in the bureaucracy—regional agencies with the power to plan infrastructure, shape development, and move public money, all without direct elections, regular scrutiny, or a single voter in the room.

In Wisconsin, the clearest and most consequential example of this is the Regional Planning Commission.

RPCs emerged in the postwar boom, as suburban expansion collided with federal infrastructure spending. The federal government needed a way to coordinate across counties; states needed a mechanism to receive funds without redrawing political maps. The solution was structural: create middle-tier planning bodies that could process dollars, comply with regulations, and stay politically neutral.

Neutral, though, didn’t mean powerless. These commissions weren’t built to lead—they were built to comply. To grease the gears. To absorb money without stirring debate. They were engineered not to govern, but to certify. They were, quite literally, designed to check a box.

That box never went away. Decades later, the RPCs remain. So does the silence around them.

Most Wisconsinites don’t know these bodies exist. Fewer still know what they do. And almost no one is watching.

Who They Are and Where They Work

Wisconsin has nine Regional Planning Commissions. Each one spans multiple counties and operates under a dense acronym most residents have never heard:

  • BLRPC — Bay-Lake (northeastern Wisconsin)
  • CARPC — Capital Area (greater Madison)
  • ECWRPC — East Central (the Fox Valley)
  • MRRPC — Mississippi River (western Driftless region)
  • NCWRPC — North Central (central interior)
  • NWRPC — Northwest (far northwest)
  • SEWRPC — Southeastern (greater Milwaukee)
  • SWWRPC — Southwestern (southwestern counties)
  • WCWRPC — West Central (around Eau Claire)

Each commission is governed by a board of appointed commissioners. Some are local elected officials in their home towns or counties—but none are elected to serve on the RPC. And that distinction is everything.

These commissions make real decisions. They direct infrastructure dollars, shape land use policy, influence transportation systems, and in some cases, affect local tax levies. Yet the people casting those votes never face the public in that role.

That’s not an oversight. It’s the design. No elections. No built-in accountability. That’s what makes these commissions stable—and what makes them largely invisible. They operate with legal power, but political insulation. No pressure. No scrutiny. No consequences.

Bureaucracy Without Stress

Elected officials feel pressure. School board members get emails. County supervisors get cornered at the grocery store. City councilors face voters. Even when they fail, they know someone’s watching—and that they can be replaced.

Now picture the opposite: a government body with no elections, no press coverage, no public attendance, no livestream, no accountability. Meetings are held during work hours, with no agendas, no documents, and no one asking questions.

That’s not dysfunction. That’s design.

In Wisconsin’s Regional Planning Commissions, we haven’t found corruption. We’ve found inertia—bodies going through motions in sealed procedural loops, untouched by public friction. They meet. They vote. They disburse funds. But they don’t evolve. They don’t explain. They don’t adapt—because no one is making them.

What keeps them alive isn’t local demand. It’s federal money. Most RPC budgets come not from the counties they serve, but from federal grants, mandates, and pass-throughs routed through state agencies. Local property tax levies play a minor role. In practice, they’re federal tools stamped with local labels.

That’s what makes them so convenient—for Washington. Want to move broadband funds without a fight? Push them through an RPC. Want to avoid statehouse politics or a veto from a skeptical county board? Use an RPC. They rarely say no. They’re not built to.

But the public never consented to this structure. No one voted for it. And as these commissions absorb more influence over planning, infrastructure, and spending, their opacity becomes not just a flaw—but a democratic risk.

When They Meet, You’re Probably at Work

If a government body actually wants the public involved, one of the clearest tells is simple: when it meets.

Wisconsin’s Regional Planning Commissions are required to meet in public. But there’s a difference between meeting in public and meeting for the public.

We reviewed full commission meetings across all nine RPCs. Here’s what we found:

  • BLRPC — Fridays at 10:00 a.m., De Pere
  • CARPC — Thursdays at 6:00 p.m., Verona
  • ECWRPC — Thursdays at 10:00 a.m., Menasha
  • MRRPC — Wednesdays at 10:00 a.m., Onalaska
  • NCWRPC — Wednesdays at 11:00 a.m., Wausau
  • NWRPC — Schedule not posted; agendas paywalled
  • SEWRPC — Wednesdays at 3:00 p.m., rotating locations
  • SWWRPC — Tuesdays at 9:00 a.m., Platteville
  • WCWRPC — Thursdays at 10:00 a.m., Eau Claire

Only CARPC meets in the evening. SEWRPC’s 3:00 p.m. slot is the latest among daytime bodies—but still out of reach for most working residents, parents, and commuters.

The result: empty rooms.

Legally, these meetings meet the standard. Functionally, they exclude the public. A Tuesday morning meeting—not in the region’s urban core, nor in the rural areas most affected, but simply where the commission’s office happens to be—isn’t designed for public attendance. Maybe that’s not the intention—but it’s unmistakably the effect.

Where They Meet—and Who Can’t Get There

You wouldn’t expect a school district to hold its budget meeting four counties away at 9:00 a.m.—and expect parents to attend. But that’s exactly what Wisconsin’s Regional Planning Commissions do.

The problem isn’t just timing. It’s geography. RPCs cover huge areas—some spanning hundreds of miles. If you live on the edge of a region, attending a meeting can mean hours of travel, just to sit quietly in a room where you can’t speak and may not even see the materials.

Yet most RPCs still require in-person attendance. In 2025, that’s not just outdated. It’s obstruction.

Here’s how access breaks down:

  • BLRPC — in-person only
  • CARPC — full virtual access via Zoom
  • ECWRPC — in-person only
  • MRRPC — full virtual access via Zoom
  • NCWRPC — in-person only
  • NWRPC — access unclear; materials withheld
  • SEWRPC — full virtual access via Zoom
  • SWWRPC — in-person only
  • WCWRPC — in-person + audio-only dial-in

Only CARPC, MRRPC, and SEWRPC offer real virtual access. And only CARPC offers both online meetings and evening hours. That’s what accessibility looks like. The rest, whether by intent or indifference, make it easy for the public to stay away—and then treat that absence as normal.

When the state authorized these commissions, it didn’t explicitly ban accessibility. It simply didn’t require it. That silence created a system where exclusion isn’t deliberate—it’s just the default.

The Public Can Attend—But Not Speak

Even if you manage to find the time and location to attend an RPC meeting, chances are you still won’t be allowed to speak.

Here’s what we found:

  • BLRPC — no public comment
  • CARPC — formal public comment on the agenda
  • ECWRPC — formal public comment on the agenda
  • MRRPC — comment allowed only at chair’s discretion
  • NCWRPC — no public comment
  • NWRPC — agendas provided through its own site, and in direct correspondence, its legal counsel Sven Strutz confirmed the commission “has no plans to offer any opportunity to make a public comment, either in person or remotely—nor is it required to do so by any controlling legal authority.”
  • SEWRPC — no public comment
  • SWWRPC — no public comment. When asked why, Executive Director Troy Maggied did not indicate any intention to add it in the future.
  • WCWRPC — no public comment

That’s seven out of nine commissions where the public either cannot speak at all, or may only speak if a chair informally permits it. MRRPC’s Executive Director Jon Bingol warned that participants who “cause distractions” could be removed—underscoring how presence is allowed, but participation is conditional.

Legally, this is all allowed. Wisconsin law does not require public comment at open meetings. But law and legitimacy are not the same thing.

If you’re voting on infrastructure priorities, approving loan disbursements, or shaping regional policy with public money, the people funding those decisions have a right to be heard. That’s not a courtesy. That’s the core of democratic governance.

RPCs often defend the silence by noting that many of their commissioners are also elected officials elsewhere—in townships, counties, or municipalities. Maybe so. But those elections did not confer authority here. This is a separate role, in a separate forum, with separate decisions—and the accountability doesn’t carry over. It must be earned.

The right to speak isn’t a luxury. It’s a test. And most of these bodies are failing it.

The Notice Is Posted. That’s About It.

Want to attend an RPC meeting? Good luck finding out when it happens.

Wisconsin’s Open Meetings Law—Wis. Stat. § 19.84—is rooted in a different era. Written when public notice meant tacking a flyer to a courthouse door, it allows government bodies to meet legal requirements by posting agendas in public buildings, running a newspaper ad, or notifying a generic “media list.”

That might work for a town board in a rural township. It makes no sense for multi-county commissions managing millions in federal funds and shaping regional development.

And yet, most RPCs still cling to this antiquated model.

Some post agendas online—but inconsistently and often too late. Others don’t post at all. NWRPC, for example, does not post agendas to its own website and required external sleuthing from our team to find an agenda, buried on a county government page. When questioned on the matter, NWRPC’s legal counsel Sven Strutz defended the omission by stating that website notice is optional, and that NWRPC “is already in compliance” because it physically posts notices in ten counties and emails newspapers. When pressed on accessibility, the response was clear: maintaining a central, public calendar online is not part of their design.

Or take the SWWRPC. On May 27, 2025, it met at 9:00 a.m.—but at 9:12 a.m., while the meeting was already in progress, its own website still showed no agenda. Only after our team contacted their Executive Director Troy Maggied did the agenda appear online. When asked why, Maggied responded that “posting in our counties is the priority”—a statement that sidesteps the agency’s own website and erases online access as a public standard. Yet that same website, billed as a portal for meeting access, had posted no agendas between February and late May, and no minutes since the previous November. On paper, the public was welcome. In practice, they had no way to know where to be—or why.

He was right—legally. But legally sufficient isn’t good enough.

Any agency capable of managing federal grant streams can maintain a website. Any commission with public duties can send a timely agenda to real media and real stakeholders. The fact that so many don’t is not logistical—it’s cultural.

They don’t expect anyone to come. And after enough years of silence, the public has stopped trying.

The Agenda Says Nothing. The Packet Doesn’t Exist.

Say you do everything right. You find the meeting notice. You take a morning off work. You drive two hours to the site. What’s on the agenda?

Almost nothing.

Here’s a direct excerpt from Bay-Lake RPC’s upcoming agenda for June 13:

IV. Committee Reports; Discussion/Action May Be Taken.
V. Communications
VI. Contracts; Discussion/Action May Be Taken.
VII. April 2025 and May 2025 Bills and Receipts; Discussion/Action May be Taken.
VIII. 2026 Levy Rate; Discussion/Action May Be Taken.
IX. 2025 Budget Progress Report; Discussion.”

No contract names. No dollar amounts. No project titles. No context.

This isn’t an outlier. This is how most RPCs operate.

And what about the meeting packet—the actual documentation? You won’t find it. Only CARPC and ECWRPC consistently publish their packets. The rest post nothing. No budgets. No reports. No maps. No memos. No contracts. No staff recommendations.

The agenda tells you a meeting is happening. The packet tells you what it’s for. And for most RPCs, that information is withheld.

Even when packets exist—as they always do—they’re treated as internal documents. Access is delayed, denied, or ignored unless forced through a formal records request. Without that packet, the public can’t comment intelligently. In most cases, they can’t even tell what’s being voted on.

When asked whether SWWRPC distributes any public meeting packets—or shares materials with the counties in advance—Executive Director Troy Maggied gave no answer. As of late May, its website had not posted any minutes since November 2024, despite multiple meetings occurring. No agendas had appeared between February 27 and May 27. Whatever internal documentation exists is not shared with the public. And without it, there’s no foundation for scrutiny. For more than six months—including at least three documented meetings—SWWRPC left the public with no official agenda, no posted minutes, no livestream, and no ability to track what decisions were made or who made them.

This culture of withholding extends beyond the public. In a May 2025 exchange, NWRPC’s legal counsel Sven Strutz acknowledged that even its executive director had not seen the full draft of the audit report scheduled for potential action at the next day’s meeting. “Not even Executive Director Sheldon Johnson possesses a copy of the full draft,” he wrote. “The Executive Committee members do not possess a copy.” Instead, members would receive a seven-page excerpt during the meeting itself—too late for review, too late for challenge, and entirely opaque to the public.

This isn’t transparency. It’s choreography—governance staged for no audience, designed to avoid engagement at every step.

The Meeting Is Over. There’s No Record It Happened.

After most RPC meetings, the public is left with nothing but a set of minutes. Here’s a direct excerpt from one such meeting:

“Executive Director Jason Valerius reported highlights from the Executive Director’s Report in the meeting packet, including regional population projections (still in progress), 2026 funding strategies for Salt Wise, a recap of the Midwest Climate Summit, the Starkweather Creek Technical Committee, and public records requests.”

This is what passes for an official public record. It tells us that population projections were mentioned—but offers no numbers, no methodology, no timeline, and no indication of what assumptions are guiding them or who is responsible for their development. The mention of funding strategies for Salt Wise includes no dollar amounts, no funding sources, and no explanation of what the strategy entails or what decisions were made. The recap of the Midwest Climate Summit provides no summary, no relevance, no insight into what was discussed, learned, or acted upon. The reference to the Starkweather Creek Technical Committee gives no context—no report content, no recommendations, no follow-up. The public records requests are noted, but not described: no detail on what was requested, by whom, whether the requests were fulfilled, denied, delayed, or even acknowledged.

These items are simply listed as having been reported. The minutes include who moved to accept the report and who seconded the motion, and they confirm that the motion passed. But beyond that, they reveal nothing about the process. Was there discussion? Were there concerns raised? Questions asked? Were any items contested, or were they nodded through in silence? Was the vote immediate, or did it follow a debate? Did anyone hesitate, or push back? The minutes don’t say. They don’t describe tone, content, or sequence. They record that something occurred, but not how, why, or with what effect.

There is no audio. No video. No transcript. The meeting packet—referred to, but never shared—is not available to the public. Even the commissioners, in some cases, don’t receive full documents until the moment of the vote.

What remains is a procedural artifact: motions moved, seconds logged, and actions taken, all without deliberative substance. It gives the appearance of recordkeeping, while withholding everything that would make that record meaningful.

This is not transparency. It’s administrative theater—performed for no audience, and preserved in name only.

Only CARPC posts recordings of any of its meetings. The other eight do not. That’s not a clerical oversight—it’s a collapse of institutional memory. If a public body meets and no one can hear what happened, can it be held accountable? Can it even be said to have governed?

Recordings are not a luxury. They are the democratic minimum. They let journalists verify facts. They let residents catch up. They let stakeholders follow decisions that affect them. And most of all, they change how officials behave.

When you know you’re on record, you choose your words. You justify your vote. You take the public seriously—because the public might hear you.

Without recordings, RPC meetings are performances for insiders. And the performance ends the moment the room clears.

For most of these bodies, the only evidence a meeting even occurred is a five-line summary and a signature. That’s not transparency. It’s box-checking—just enough to stay legal, and not one step further.

We Want to Get It Right. So It’s Coming Next Tuesday.

The Wisconsin Municipal Transparency Scorecard was set to launch today. We’re holding it one more week.

Why? Because precision matters. And we don’t miss.

The Scorecard isn’t just a checklist. It’s a full-spectrum tool that uses AI to scan and evaluate agendas, notices, and meeting formats from public bodies across the state. It cuts through bureaucratic fog and tells you, in plain language, what your government is doing—and whether it’s doing it in public.

The engine runs on the ChatGPT API. When that API went down during critical testing on June 9 and 10, we paused. Not because we weren’t ready—but because we refuse to ship it until it’s exact.

Next Tuesday, you’ll see it in action. You’ll know which agencies post real agendas. Which share packets. Which livestream. Which take public comment. Which make room for you—and which don’t.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about exposure. Once the public can see what’s happening, they can demand better. And better is the point.

Nothing Changes Unless Someone Insists It Should

This isn’t a call to dismantle Regional Planning Commissions. Regional coordination matters. Infrastructure spans borders. Watersheds don’t observe zoning lines. Counties need to plan together.

But that necessity doesn’t excuse opacity.

Too often, coordination becomes a cover for exclusion—decisions made out of sight, under the banner of efficiency.

Meetings without attendees. Agendas that disclose nothing. Votes without records. Commissioners with no electoral mandate. Public voices excluded. When a citizen’s written comment is deemed unlawful to read aloud—because it wasn’t itemized on the agenda—what you’re seeing isn’t bureaucratic caution. It’s systemic insulation.

These aren’t glitches. They’re blueprints—designed to minimize scrutiny, resist friction, and persist without pressure. Left alone, they don’t adapt. They entrench.

That’s why The Sunlight Report exists—to ask for the documents, show up at the meetings, and refuse to accept “we’re not required to” as an answer to a basic public right.

Not to provoke, not to perform—but to press. To insist that public power belongs to the public. That silence is not neutral—it’s a strategy.

Bureaucracy doesn’t self-correct.

It responds only when it’s seen.

So we’re watching.

And we won’t stop.

Archive

Nobody’s Watching, So We Are

By Ari Berkovici | Saturday, June 7, 2025

Editor’s Note: Why This Dispatch Is Late—and Why It’s Longer

This week’s dispatch didn’t publish on Tuesday as planned. A personal emergency sidelined our external editor, and several key reports required additional verification. We don’t publish on speculation or incomplete evidence; we publish on records, receipts, and repeatable documentation. That commitment delayed us—but it also deepened our work.

Thus, this dispatch is longer than usual; fueld by a week and a half of new material: hundreds of meeting notices, dozens of evasive responses, one outright smear from a county clerk, and a state agency’s reluctant reversal after a month-long battle. This report is longer than usual because the stakes demand it.

Here’s what we found, what it means, and what we’re doing next.

The Law Is Beautiful—When It’s Followed

Wisconsin’s open meetings law, Wis. Stat. § 19.84, is a model of clarity and public accountability. It mandates that governmental bodies provide public notice of all meetings, with no exceptions for convenience or discretion. The statute’s language is precise:

19.84 Public notice.

(1) Public notice of all meetings of a governmental body shall be given in the following manner:

(a) As required by any other statutes; and

(b) By communication from the chief presiding officer of a governmental body or such person’s designee to the public, to those news media who have filed a written request for such notice , and to the official newspaper designated under ss. 985.04, 985.05 and 985.06 or, if none exists, to a news medium likely to give notice in the area. Communication from the chief presiding officer of a governmental body or such person’s designee shall be made to the public using one of the following methods:

1. Posting a notice in at least 3 public places likely to give notice to persons affected.

2. Posting a notice in at least one public place likely to give notice to persons affected and placing a notice electronically on the governmental body’s Internet site.

3. By paid publication in a news medium likely to give notice to persons affected.

The phrase “to those news media who have filed a written request for such notice” is a cornerstone of transparency. It’s not optional. It’s not negotiable. It’s a legal obligation: if a qualifying media outlet requests inclusion on a meeting notice list, the government must comply—permanently.

This statute doesn’t just permit oversight; it demands it. It’s a rare law that builds accountability into the system, preempting evasion and removing discretion.

We’ve invoked this statute to every government body in the state we could identify — not to overwhelm inboxes, but to hold governments accountable. Our mission extends beyond monitoring compliance with open meetings and ADA accessibility laws (though we’re doing that at scale). We’re building a central hub where every public meeting, agenda, and packet is accessible, summarized, and understandable to residents who lack the time or resources to navigate government bureaucracy.

In the coming weeks, we’ll launch searchable, interactive listings by date, jurisdiction, and topic, complete with plain-language breakdowns and actionable insights. Whether it’s your school board, county committee, or transit authority, we want decisions visible, clickable, and clear—no more chasing PDFs, no more ignored requests, no more decisions made in secret.

Packets, not just agendas, are the heart of transparency. We’re demanding both.

Week One: 2,453 Notices, 778 Responses, 49 Violations

On June 3, we sent formal written notices to 2,453 governmental bodies across Wisconsin, citing Wis. Stat. § 19.84(1)(b). Each notice requested permanent inclusion on their meeting notice lists, including agendas, packets, attachments, and supporting materials that give meetings context and meaning.

Our custom-built tracking system logs every reply, flags incomplete or evasive responses, and identifies potential legal violations. By Saturday morning, we received 778 responses—a 31.7% response rate. That’s underwhelming but unsurprising, given the limited resources of many governmental bodies.

Here’s the breakdown as of today:

  • 49 violations of federal ADA law: Many responses included image-only PDFs, inaccessible file formats, or links to platforms with login walls, violating Section 508 of the Rehabilitation Act, which mandates accessible digital content for disabled users. These violations are so common they seem normalized.
  • Numerous violations of Wisconsin’s Open Meetings Law: Some notices omitted critical details like meeting times, locations, or agendas. Others provided only hyperlinks without descriptive content, defying both the statute and Wisconsin Department of Justice (DOJ) guidance. A few clerks appeared unaware of § 19.84 entirely.
  • Varied tones in responses: While some were professional and prompt, others were indifferent, suspicious, or outright hostile, treating public oversight as an intrusion.

Every response is tagged. Every violation triggers a tailored legal reply. For agencies that fail to comply after two notices, we’re preparing formal filings—either with district attorneys under Wis. Stat. § 19.97 or through civil action under § 19.37.

Next, we dive into Vernon County, where the law wasn’t just ignored—it was mocked.

Vernon County: A Clerk’s Contempt and a Culture of Secrecy

Jerry Pedretti, Vernon County Clerk, doesn’t merely flout transparency—he spits on it with a sneer. His tenure as records custodian is a masterclass in bureaucratic defiance, where lawful requests are met with mockery and the public’s right to know is treated as a personal affront. What follows is a chronological dissection of Pedretti’s campaign to obstruct The Sunlight Report, a saga of contempt that exposes Vernon County’s secrecy as a feature, not a flaw.

On June 3, 2025, we sent a formal request to every Wisconsin governmental body, including Vernon County, citing Wis. Stat. § 19.84(1)(b). We asked to be added to their meeting notice lists, including agendas, packets, and materials, to build a public hub of accessible government records. The request was boilerplate, rooted in law, and sent to `countyclerk@vernoncountywi.gov`. Pedretti’s response set the tone for his crusade.

On June 4, at 7:52 AM, Pedretti replied, grudgingly agreeing to add us to his agenda distribution list but dismissing our request for meeting packets:

Meeting packets and associated materials are not covered under ss. 19.84. These will not be automatically sent to you, and they will not be sent to you free of charge upon your request. Written request(s) for these records can be made to the address under my signature, or to this email address, asking for specific documents and I will reply to let you know what the fee will be and confirm your willingness to make advanced payment for said records.

His email was laced with irritation, calling our request “very wordy” and hinting at its simplicity as if we were wasting his time. He ignored our legal citations and the public interest, focusing instead on his refusal to streamline a process that other counties manage effortlessly.

We responded on June 4, at 10:43 AM, clarifying that packets are disclosable under Wis. Stat. § 19.35(1)(a) and that forwarding digital files incurs a de minimis burden. We proposed a practical solution: include packets with agenda emails to reduce redundant requests, a practice common across Wisconsin. We warned that, absent cooperation, we’d automate formal records requests for each packet, per Pedretti’s insistence on written submissions.

Pedretti doubled down on June 6, at 12:40 PM, with a response dripping in condescension:

Nothing in my earlier reply stated that I would deny you access to any records. Shame on you for implying otherwise. It is of no concern to me that you feel “to streamline your work and reduce redundancy” I should capitulate to your demand. Your expertise obviously does not extend to the workings of this office or how meetings are scheduled in Vernon County.

He claimed packets aren’t prepared simultaneously with agendas, requiring him to request them from other departments, yet admitted they’re public records available upon written request. His solution? Force us to file individual requests “from now to eternity,” creating more work for everyone. He closed with a sarcastic jab:

Thanks, and have a happy day

We replied on June 6, at 1:23 PM, reiterating our offer to reduce administrative burden and confirming our automated system would now issue requests for each missing packet. We noted Vernon County’s transparency issues, citing February 20, 2025, meeting minutes where residents like George Wilber and Jon Franke decried procedural opacity. Our tone was measured, but Pedretti’s next move was anything but.

At 1:31 PM on June 6, Pedretti sent an internal email to department heads, smearing our organization:

As an FYI, I am in currently in a battle of wills with someone claiming to be a “media outlet” named Sunlight Report the emails come from @legal@sunlightreport. I am dealing with a fake name, on a fake business, with a fake website, so it’s all good.

He instructed staff to forward our communications to him, falsely claiming we were bypassing the custodian:

If you receive any communication from them, please forward it to me. I am the custodian of the records they are requesting, and they should not be doing an end around and going to you directly.

This was a lie—we emailed the official clerk’s address. Worse, his attack on our legitimacy, given our team’s non-Anglo names like Harish M.K. Patel and Chen Yang, reeked of racial bias. He ended with another taunt:

Have a happy day

Vernon County Clerk Jerry Pedretti
Image: Jerry Pedretti, sourced from Vernon Reporter, used for journalistic purposes

By 2:24 PM that day, Patel escalated the matter to County Board Chair Lorn Goede and Administrative Coordinator Cassandra Hanan, demanding a retraction and review of Pedretti’s conduct:

We now find ourselves in the position of being attacked for acting in the public interest, mocked for our names and our mission, and targeted internally by a county official who refuses to exercise even the minimum level of decorum required by his role. This is unacceptable.

No retraction has been issued. No local media, including The Hillsboro Sentry-Enterprise or Vernon County Broadcaster, have covered Pedretti’s outburst, despite our outreach. His defiance remains unchecked, a symptom of Vernon County’s deeper secrecy culture, where transparency is a chore and oversight an insult.

What’s Happening in Vernon County? A Deeper Look

The dismissive conduct of Vernon County Clerk Jerry Pedretti prompted us to examine the county’s public records more closely. If a clerk openly disregards transparency laws, what else might be occurring out of the public’s view? A review of the Vernon County Board of Supervisors’ minutes from February 20, 2025—approved and uploaded months later—reveals a troubling pattern of civic disengagement, inadequate public notice, and unresolved resident concerns.

During the meeting’s public comment period, residents raised serious issues about the county’s governance and transparency:

  • George Wilber , a member of the Vernon County Planning Commission from the Town of Whitestown, criticized the proposed Comprehensive Plan Ordinance (2025-03), arguing it bundled multiple decisions into a single vote, including a zoning ordinance that could restrict rural growth. He emphasized that towns differ from urban areas and require distinct considerations.
  • Jon Franke from the Town of Union opposed the same ordinance, alleging that several residents’ comments were excluded from the public hearing process and that they received no notification of the hearing. He argued the plan lacked due process and infringed on private property rights.
  • Don Subera , also from the Town of Union, echoed Franke’s concerns, claiming the county failed to follow statutory requirements in drafting the Comprehensive Plan and that its contents were poorly communicated to the public.
  • Anna Jo Door and Monica Matos from Viroqua opposed a proposed landfill expansion, citing environmental concerns. KJ Jacobson , also from Viroqua, further challenged the landfill feasibility study, alleging misrepresentations by the county’s engineering firm and inaccuracies in the landfill’s financial reports. She also requested extending the four-minute public comment limit to allow fuller discussion.
  • Mary Bradford from the Town of Union opposed the Comprehensive Plan, arguing it restricted landowner rights.
  • David Stouvenal from DeSoto, a veteran, claimed discrimination by the county and a local municipality, as well as by the sheriff’s department in a fatal traffic stop involving another veteran. He questioned whether board members had read the U.S. Constitution.

These concerns were compounded by a petition filed on February 18, 2025, with the County Clerk’s office, signed by 32 residents. The petition alleged that the county violated constitutional rights by failing to include written requests in the Comprehensive Plan hearing and not properly notifying affected parties. The petitioners demanded immediate corrective action to ensure due process.

The board’s response to these issues was minimal. The minutes note that Clerk Pedretti acknowledged the petition, stating that the 32 letters were forwarded to the zoning administrator and that the county sent written notice of the February 20 meeting to the petitioners. Corporation Counsel argued that the county followed statutory procedures under Wis. Stat. § 66.1001(4) and that the letters did not clearly constitute comments on the plan itself. A motion to acknowledge the petition passed, but a subsequent motion to deny the requested relief—finding no violations—passed with some opposition.

On the Comprehensive Plan, Supervisor Muller moved to postpone the ordinance to April, citing inadequate public notice, but the motion failed (2 ayes, 13 nays). The ordinance passed with the same vote, despite resident objections and Supervisor Walleser’s concern that his town saw no urgent need to adopt it. The landfill expansion feasibility study also drew scrutiny, with Supervisors Lawler, Kilmer, and Slack questioning the process, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources’ (WDNR) demands for additional testing, and the risk of aquifer contamination. Despite these concerns, the budget amendment for the study passed (13 ayes, 2 nays, 1 abstention).

No local or regional media outlets have reported on these issues, based on our review. The minutes, buried on the county’s website, are the only public record—and even those were posted late, with skeletal agendas and no supporting materials provided in advance. This opacity leaves residents who attend meetings with little clarity or opportunity for meaningful input.

Vernon County’s governance reflects a broader issue: when public bodies operate with minimal transparency—posting incomplete notices, dismissing resident concerns, and rushing contentious decisions—accountability erodes. The lack of media coverage and the board’s cursory responses suggest a system where oversight is neither expected nor enforced, leaving residents sidelined.

CARPC: A $1,689.92 Paywall to Public Records

Jason Valerius, Executive Director of the Capital Area Regional Planning Commission (CARPC), doesn’t just obstruct transparency—he betrays it with a smile. On June 2, 2025, Valerius issued a $1,689.92 invoice for 14 public records requests filed by our team, a fee so brazenly inflated it could only come from a man who thinks the public’s right to know is a negotiable inconvenience.

CARPC Executive Director Jason Valerius
Image: Jason Valerius, sourced from LinkedIn, used for journalistic purposes

Valerius’s invoice wasn’t a mistake; it was a calculated assault on Wisconsin’s Public Records Law. He claimed 16 hours at $105.62 per hour—his estimate of his own salary, not even that of a lower-paid staffer capable of the work—to “locate and redact” records. The math doesn’t add up, and neither does his integrity. Here’s how he rigged the game:

  • Bundled 14 distinct requests from different individuals into one, defying Wisconsin DOJ guidance that each request must be processed separately.
  • Charged for redaction time as “location costs,” a tactic explicitly banned under Wis. Stat. § 19.35(3)(c).
  • Used an estimated $105.62 hourly rate, over 63% above his disclosed hourly rate of $64.44, with no justification given for a 63% indirect cost.
  • Provided no breakdown or justification for the 16-hour estimate, leaving us to guess how a digital search could take so long.
  • Ignored his legal duty to offer options to narrow the requests, ensuring the fee remained a prohibitive wall.

We fired back the same day with a legal demand, citing chapter and verse of Wisconsin’s Public Records Law and urging Valerius to retract his unlawful estimate. Our email, sent at 8:03 PM on June 2, was read by 8:51 PM, as confirmed by a read receipt. His response? Silence. Not a word, not a correction, not even a pretense of compliance. This wasn’t oversight; it was defiance.

Valerius’s treachery runs deeper than a single invoice. Records we’ve obtained reveal a man who plays the part of a cooperative public servant while orchestrating evasion behind closed doors. On April 8, 2025, at 5:20 PM, he forwarded one of our records requests to other RPC directors, sneering:

Did anyone else receive this gem today? My entire staff was targeted.

No mention of the law, no engagement with the request’s substance—just mockery. That same night, at 10:02 PM, he strategized:

We have to respond. We can't necessarily insist on more specificity in the request. We can ignore the 'what' used, the suggest, and the can't drag our feet too much. We have to be specific if citing costs to comply.

By April 16, 2025, at 4:18 PM, Valerius was plotting a coordinated escape, writing to his peers:

I think I may have found our path out of this. Can we set up a call to discuss how we're all responding?

This is no public servant. This is a schemer, cloaking his resistance in collegial emails while undermining the very transparency he’s sworn to uphold. When our Executive Director, Harish M.K. Patel, shared personal context about his location in Brunei, Valerius weaponized it, privately questioning Patel’s legitimacy in an April 16 email at 9:16 AM:

Mr. Patel tells me he is in Brunei. It looks beautiful there, but, if true, I question his standing to pursue this effort.

He followed with a crocodile tear:

Please don't raise this topic with him based on this knowledge, as I am still corresponding and trying to learn more about his Wisconsin ties.

Valerius’s duplicity peaked in his public praise for our work—calling our draft SOPs “exactly what I was thinking” on May 6—while privately dismissing our efforts as a nuisance to be outmaneuvered. His June 1 email to Patel accused us of being “adversarial,” yet it’s Valerius who’s been playing both sides, offering partnership with one hand and sabotage with the other.

By June 7, with no response to our demand, we escalated the matter to the Dane County District Attorney, filing a formal enforcement request under Wis. Stat. § 19.37(1)(b). The case is pending, but the evidence is damning: Valerius’s actions expose CARPC to mandamus, mandatory fees, punitive damages, and civil forfeiture up to $1,000. If he thought a $1,689.92 paywall would silence us, he underestimated the public’s resolve—and our receipts.

WisDOT: A Month-Long Battle for a Basic Right

On May 3, we submitted a routine records request to the Wisconsin Department of Transportation (WisDOT), seeking internal communications mentioning The Sunlight Report or our Executive Director, Harish M.K. Patel. The goal was simple: understand how WisDOT handles media monitoring and public inquiries.

WisDOT’s response? A $307.50 invoice for “location costs,” claiming multiple hours were needed for a digital search—despite the request being narrowly scoped and the records stored electronically.

As we reported on May 20, this fee violated Wisconsin’s Public Records Law, which permits “location costs” only when they exceed $50 and reflect actual logistical burdens, not review or redaction time.

Then things got stranger. An individual identifying as Attorney Holly Fulkerson responded, joking:

“My rate will be considerably more than $30/hr so you probably don’t want me to get involved.”

Fulkerson’s name doesn’t appear in WisDOT’s staff directory. Her bar registration lists her as licensed in the U.S. Virgin Islands, with a disciplinary history including two Wisconsin Supreme Court reprimands (2015 and 2018) for misconduct, including trust account mismanagement.

We followed up, asking whether WisDOT was aware of Fulkerson’s history, whether she was authorized to represent the agency, and whether outside counsel was hired without proper disclosures. Those records remain undelivered.

After nearly a month of legal arguments and escalations, WisDOT’s Chief Legal Counsel, Carrie Cox, conceded on May 30:

“Because your request focuses on specific terms of your name and publication, I believe that allowed WisDOT to create a tight and narrow search… Accordingly, having located in a relatively succinct manner (only requiring phase one), WisDOT will not charge for that effort as it does not exceed the $50.00 threshold set for charging. The prior invoice is rescinded.”

Cox committed to delivering 50 distinct records as a free zip file or download, with review for confidentiality conducted at no cost, as required by law.

Our Executive Director responded courteously, clarifying an unrelated request to streamline WisDOT’s process. The exchange was civil—a rarity in public records disputes—but it took weeks of pressure to waive an unlawful fee.

The records still haven’t arrived. Nor have answers about Fulkerson’s role. If a watchdog group with legal expertise faces this much resistance, how can an ordinary resident navigate the system?

The Bigger Picture: A Culture of Evasion

This dispatch isn’t just a chronicle of bureaucratic delays—it’s evidence of a deeper problem. In one week, we documented:

  • A county clerk smearing our team and dismissing the law.
  • A regional commission using excessive fees to block access.
  • A state agency rescinding an illegal fee only after relentless pressure—while withholding records.
  • 49 local governments violating federal ADA law with inaccessible documents.

This isn’t about isolated mistakes or undertrained staff. It’s a pattern of strategic evasion:

  • Deny records until the requester gives up.
  • Impose illegal fees to deter scrutiny.
  • Insult or ignore those seeking transparency.
  • Flout ADA accessibility requirements, excluding disabled residents.
  • Fail to send meeting notices entirely.

Transparency in Wisconsin isn’t broken—it’s being actively undermined.

We’re watching. We’re logging every action, inaction, and violation. The public may not have the resources to file thousands of records requests monthly. We do—and we will.

Coming Tuesday: The Transparency Scorecard

On Tuesday, we’ll launch our Transparency Scorecard (Beta), an interactive tool ranking Wisconsin’s governmental bodies based on:

  • Compliance with Wis. Stat. § 19.84(1)(b) (meeting notices).
  • Adherence to ADA Section 508 (accessibility).
  • Timeliness and completeness of responses.
  • Professionalism of clerk interactions.
  • Other metrics of public respect and legal compliance.

Users can filter by county, agency type, and response quality to see who’s transparent—and who’s hiding. The Scorecard isn’t just about exposing failures; it’s about empowering residents to understand and act on what’s happening in their communities.

This isn’t about a single PDF. It’s about restoring the public’s right to know what their government is doing—before decisions are made.

Closing: A Call to Accountability

Wisconsin’s transparency laws are clear, but compliance is optional until someone demands it. That’s why we exist. We’re not just reporting violations; we’re building tools to make oversight accessible to everyone.

No more hidden meetings. No more paywalls for public records. No more decisions made in silence.

We’ll see you Tuesday with the data, the rankings, and the next steps in this fight.

The Most Transparent Enemy of Transparency: Inside NWRPC's Legal Wall

By Ari Berkovici, Investigative Reporter | Tuesday, May 27, 2025

What Are RPCs, and Why Do They Matter?

Regional Planning Commissions (RPCs) are little-known but legally powerful public bodies created under Wisconsin law (Wis. Stat. § 66.0309). Their mission sounds benign: help counties and municipalities coordinate land use, infrastructure, transportation, and economic development across jurisdictional boundaries.

But in practice, these commissions operate in near-complete obscurity.

They control the flow of millions in federal, state, and local dollars. They influence regional development priorities. They shape public spending. Yet they are unelected, unmonitored, and often unknown even to the residents they serve.

RPCs don’t show up on ballots. They rarely appear in news coverage. And while legally public, they often behave like private contractors — inward-facing, tight-lipped, and shielded by institutional fog.

Our Audit: Shedding Light Where None Exists

In April, The Sunlight Report launched a multi-phase audit of all nine Regional Planning Commissions in Wisconsin. We began with public records requests: budgets, audits, contracts, staffing data, and meeting notices. Our goal was simple — make their structures and funding transparent, so they can be evaluated, improved, and held accountable.

The results have been mixed.

Some commissions were responsive, professional, and open to dialogue. Others required multiple follow-ups, gave partial responses, or delayed without reason. Several offered quiet resistance.

But one agency stands apart — Northwest Regional Planning Commission (NWRPC).

No other RPC came close to the level of obstruction, secrecy, and legalistic hostility we encountered at NWRPC.

Meet Sven W. Strutz: Legal Counsel for Avoiding the Public

Since April, nearly every attempt we’ve made to obtain records or engage with NWRPC has been filtered through their attorney, Sven W. Strutz, of Weld Riley, S.C. In communications going back several weeks, Strutz has consistently framed even routine transparency requests as adversarial or inappropriate.

For context: Strutz specializes in school and labor law. He is not a government transparency attorney, nor does he appear to have any specific background in open meetings or open records law. But at NWRPC, he has functioned less like a legal advisor and more like a firewall — built to delay, deflect, and deny.

Attorney Sven W. Strutz, Weld Riley, S.C.
Image: Attorney Sven W. Strutz, sourced from Weld Riley, S.C. firm website, used for journalistic purposes
Preparing for Our First Summary Report

With our preliminary data nearly compiled, we’ve begun attending RPC meetings in person to observe audit presentations, request additional context, and offer feedback to commissioners. These are quiet, ordinary interactions: attend, listen, sometimes speak. Most agencies — even those hesitant about records — haven’t objected to that.

Until now.

A Simple Question, A Stunning Response

Ahead of NWRPC’s May 28 Executive Committee meeting — at which the 2024 draft audit was scheduled to be discussed and possibly acted upon — we sent a brief, standard inquiry. Was the audit available beforehand? Could we submit a comment? Would public input be accepted?

Here’s how Attorney Strutz responded:

“You demand an immediate response (‘no later than the close of business today’). I have always been concerned with the deadlines that you unilaterally impose that have no support under Wisconsin law. On behalf of NWRPC, I am writing to you at this time voluntarily. I do so without waiving any current or future objections to your demands...”

He continued:

“You have raised an objection that ‘the agenda includes no opportunity for public comment.’ A public comment period is not required... In response to item 2 of your formal request, NWRPC does not plan to read aloud any written statement that you author for tomorrow’s hearing.”

And then this:

“Indeed, I have some concern that you are inviting NWRPC to violate the law by asking to participate in a public comment period on less than 24 hours’ notice. Please confirm that is not your intent.”

He concluded:

“NWRPC has no plans to offer any opportunity to make a public comment, either in person or remotely—nor is it required to do so by any controlling legal authority.”

What This Means — and Why It Matters

Let’s be crystal clear: none of this is normal.

A citizen requesting to review a public document before a vote? Normal.
A citizen asking to submit a short written comment? Normal.
A government body choosing to avoid comment? Not ideal, but legally defensible.

But accusing the public of trying to create a legal violation by asking to participate? That’s not just inappropriate — it’s outrageous.

It reveals a worldview where public input is not a right but a risk. Where citizen questions are treated as legal traps. Where protecting institutional convenience is more important than public legitimacy.

This isn’t how a democracy behaves. It’s how an institution behaves when it fears being seen.

What Did We Do?

We took Strutz’s email and forwarded it to the District Attorneys of multiple counties in NWRPC’s ten-county territory — the officials tasked with investigating violations of Wisconsin’s Open Meetings Law.

We also contacted every NWRPC commissioner directly, sharing what their taxpayer-funded counsel wrote in response to a basic request for public access and comment.

We look forward to their replies. So should the public.

Coming Next Week

Our investigation into Wisconsin’s RPCs continues — and next week’s dispatch returns to the state level, where new records are exposing a troubling internal coordination effort led by senior figures inside the Governor’s Office, including Britt Cudaback.

You’ll want to see what they said when they thought no one was watching.

Until then: keep asking questions. Keep showing up. We will too.

Inaugural Dispatch: Stonewalled and Searching

By Ari Berkovici, Investigative Reporter | Tuesday, May 20, 2025

Unveiling Secrecy

Welcome to the first dispatch from The Sunlight Report. Our mission is to restore public oversight by exposing government secrecy. We’re here to uncover what happens behind closed doors when accountability wanes. Transparency is the foundation of democracy — and that foundation is cracking.

Initial Requests Ignored

In April 2025, we submitted simple requests for basic governance documents to every Wisconsin state agency. The response? Near-universal stonewalling. Most agencies didn’t acknowledge our requests. A few sent vague deflections. This wasn’t oversight — it was a coordinated refusal to engage. The picture is grim, but we didn’t stop there.

Meta-Level Investigation

Throughout May, our team has been filing meta-level records requests — yes, requests about ourselves and our own requests — to understand the stonewalling. We've sought internal communications, directives, and processes behind the silence. We're still waiting on most agencies to provide said records, but even with the few who have provided records, the findings from them are troubling: patterns of obstruction, dismissive attitudes, and questionable practices. Internal emails, not intended for public eyes, showed agencies were guided to evade. From what we've been able to deduce, the Wisconsin Department of Administration initially told agencies to comply with our requests, then flip-flopped and told agencies to ignore us and not comply with our requests! At some point, the Department of Administration also told folks that they might respond for them directly. The result? Uniform silence, backed by a paper trail.

Evasive Maneuvers

At the Governor’s office, Communications Director Britt Cudaback sent an April 23 email about our requests to the Department of Administration's Communications listserv, following a discussion about our requests:

“Thanks, everyone. Think it’s safe to say a critical mass probably received. Sounds like the appropriate people are connecting and will keep everyone posted. Give me a call if you need anything else.”

After this, communication from all agencies shifted from email and Teams to calls, avoiding written records. We asked Cudaback to clarify “critical mass” and identify the “appropriate people,” but she did not respond to our requests for comment. Her Instagram claims, “I value public service and I'm relatively good at organizing political causes.” Transparency, it seems, isn’t one of those causes.

Britt Cudaback, Communications Director
Image: Britt Cudaback, sourced from LegiStorm, used for journalistic purposes

Cudaback’s history raises flags. In 2023, she justified a secret email account (warren.spahn@wisconsin.gov) used by Governor Evers, citing “security reasons” that no media outlet could verify. She also sent a 1,300-word email to a Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reporter, urging them to spike a story about her alleged relationship with her director supervisor, Chief of Staff Maggie Gau, citing risks of anti-LGBTQ violence. Using her official role, Cudaback managed her own PR while dodging transparency.

Questionable Fees and Figures

When we challenged a $307.50 illegal “review fee” from the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, lawyer Holly Fulkerson responded sarcastically:

“My rate will be considerably more than $30/hr so you probably don’t want me to get involved.”

Fulkerson has no record of WisDOT employment. Her bar registration lists her in the U.S. Virgin Islands, yet she’s billing for Wisconsin records requests. Her past includes Wisconsin Supreme Court reprimands in 2015 and 2018, the latter public, citing six counts of misconduct, including fund mismanagement. We’ve filed a meta-request with WisDOT to clarify Fulkerson’s role, location, and whether her disciplinary history was known. We’re still waiting to hear back.

Holly Fulkerson, Lawyer
Image: Holly Fulkerson, sourced from Virgin Islands Bar Association, used for journalistic purposes
Mockery and Bias

Some agencies labeled our requests “spam” or suspected scams. At least two employees used racial slurs in official channels, one calling our Executive Director Harish M.K. Patel a “Patel scammer.” We’re exploring civil rights violations with legal counsel. A state DNS error, failing to update our domain, caused email bouncebacks, which agencies seized as an excuse to dismiss us. Our site, handling thousands of daily visits, was easily verifiable. Instead, they mocked and shared emails internally.

Pushing for Accountability

This isn’t about minor missteps. It’s about a system where secrecy flourishes unchecked. In Wisconsin, ignoring records requests carries no real penalty. We’re pulling back the curtain, one thread at a time.

Insiders — state employees, contractors, or witnesses — can contact us securely at press@sunlightreport.org . We protect sources and follow the evidence. Next dispatch drops Tuesday, May 27th.