The Budget Deficit Has Entered the Chat

The Budget Deficit Has Entered the Chat

A Columbus Day theory about the state’s spreadsheet, a surprising cast list, and one very expensive coincidence

It was a beautiful, warm Columbus Day in Chicago, the kind of day when you step outside, enjoy the sunshine, and suddenly wonder whether Illinois has been running its entire government off one very stressed-out spreadsheet.

If you’ve been following our work, you know the cast so far: regulatory filings, FOIAs, civil-rights complaints, records requests, and a long list of questions about how regulators handled allegations involving nuEra Cannabis, Prairie Cannabis, IESO, and their ownership. We’ve written about alleged violations, alleged cover-ups, threats, payments, and marketing concerns. Those are allegations we have receipts for and subjects of our filings; a filing is not a finding, and a document arriving in an inbox does not tell us what anyone concluded.

Then last week, a response from the Governor’s Office gave us a new list of names, over a 100 to be exact, titles, email addresses, and phone numbers connected to the handling or routing of our requests and disclosures. The list had a few unexpected supporting characters. We laughed about the gardeners and maids appearing in the paperwork. Government records can have a cast list worthy of a sitcom. Maybe he didn’t want a record of him touching it so he had the Gardner read it to him. Great way to avoid a civil rights lawsuit. It sounds like it’s from a mob movie but funny to picture.

But then we noticed another category: people whose work touches budgets, finance, or the state’s economic picture.

That made us pause. Why would people in that orbit appear in the records around complaints, criminal reporting, and FOIAs about regulatory misconduct? We don’t know. We can’t say from a list of names who read what, why they were included, or what they thought about it. But once you notice the pattern, the mind starts writing a very Illinois episode of The Spreadsheet Is the Main Character.

And then Illinois State Treasurer Michael W. Frerichs showed up on our radar. Well to be fair he might have forgot how social media works and went looking for us personally. Didn’t I say we track everything? The Treasurer’s Office describes Frerichs as the state’s chief investment and banking officer. That is his office’s stated role; it does not make the Treasurer a cannabis regulator, and his name appearing in something we noticed does not prove that he reviewed our filings or had any involvement in the underlying matters. We have no evidence of that.

Still, the timing got our attention. Illinois has spent years confronting budget pressure and arguments about how every dollar counts. So here is the completely unproven, decidedly satirical hypothesis that wandered into our heads on a sunny holiday: What if the pattern isn’t simply about whether a regulator sees a complaint? What if, somewhere in the machinery, every problem gets converted into a budget question?

A reported wire transfer becomes a spreadsheet cell. A recorded threat becomes a footnote. A question about money laundering becomes a meeting that could have been an email. A licensing concern gets sorted into the column marked “revenue, jobs, and please don’t make us reopen this workbook.”

That is a joke built around a question not evidence that any official made that calculation, and certainly not proof that anyone approved or ignored wrongdoing to help the state budget. We do not know that. We are not claiming that the Treasurer or anyone in his office reviewed our materials, influenced a regulator, or made any decision about nuEra or Prairie.

But the hypothesis does explain the feeling you get when serious allegations keep moving through a system and the public record still leaves basic questions unanswered: perhaps the system’s favorite unit of measurement is not truth, risk, or accountability. Perhaps it is the line item.

“Can we address the alleged threat?”

“Is it in this year’s budget?”

“Can we investigate the licensing issue?”

“Does the investigation have a cost center?”

“Could we please put the money-laundering issue under “miscellaneous” until after the fiscal year?”

Can we buy more time to make up for their loss when they are charged?

Again: that is satire, not a claim about an actual conversation. We have no proof that budget concerns explain anyone’s conduct. We have noticed names and patterns in records, and we are trying to understand what they mean. At this point, the honest answer is that we do not know.

That is why the next step is more records, clearer answers, and an actual explanation of who handled what. If the budget theory is wrong, the records can help show that. If there is no connection, officials can say so. If the pattern means something else, we would like to know what.

Until then, we’ll keep following the paperwork and checking whether the spreadsheet has a tab called “Questions We Hope Nobody Asks.”

Editorial note: This article distinguishes documented records and the existence of our filings from the allegations described in them. The budget explanation is a speculative satirical hypothesis. We have not established that Treasurer Michael W. Frerichs, his office, or any budget official reviewed our materials or influenced regulatory decisions. But would be funny wouldn’t it? A company is allowed to threaten people and launder money without repercussions if the consequences of those actions hurt the budget? Food for thought…