In this Sundays With Seegers, County Commissioner candidate Jake Seegers highlights a pattern many residents may miss: while leaders say housing affordability is the county’s top issue, they continue raising permit, septic, and environmental health fees—adding costs to anyone trying to build or buy. Seegers points out these aren’t isolated increases, but a deliberate strategy of annual hikes plus periodic larger jumps—small enough to avoid backlash, but significant over time. The result: a steady squeeze on affordability that compounds year after year.

Another Fee Hike

At an upcoming meeting on April 21st, the Board of Health—including the county commissioners—will discuss an increased fee schedule for Clallam County Health and Human Services Environmental Health.

The proposed changes include fees for individual septic systems, water wells, and food handling, including event permits.

Environmental Health has proposed a 7.7% increase across the board, consisting of a 2.7% Consumer Price Index (CPI) adjustment and a 5% “technology fee.”

Following the Board of Health meeting, a public hearing will be held—likely in the last week of April—to gather input on the proposal.

Fees Undermine Home Affordability

The ability of Clallam residents to afford a home continues to erode. In 2018, the county’s median home price was $293,000; by 2024/2025, it had risen to approximately $525,000—a 79% increase. Over the same period, median household income grew just 29%, according to Federal Reserve Economic Data.

County leadership has acknowledged the severity of the problem.

During a July 8th, 2025 meeting, Commissioner Randy Johnson stated:

“In Clallam County, it continues to rise to probably the No. 1 issue for most county residents — the shortage of housing, and/or the affordability of housing, and/or the percentage of one’s income that one needs to allocate to help pay for housing.”

Commissioner Mark Ozias recently wrote to a constituent:

“The lack of affordable housing and a decayed social safety net… [are] leaving people without options.”

County Commissioner and Board of Health Chair Mike French offered additional context during a December 11th Clallam Bay/Sekiu Advisory Meeting:

“[We’re] pushing against the crosswind of the state building code and energy code that have made it a lot more expensive to build individual units. What was possible 20 years ago is very expensive now. The state has basically said, ‘We want you to be building really resilient, really low cost to maintain and low cost for utilities - we want that kind of house.’ And that has raised the initial cost very high and it’s tough on rural low-income areas. So there’s a lot of headwinds to push against.”

But taxpayers are also facing strong headwinds from their own county. Despite acknowledging the cost pressures created by state policy and the Climate Commitment Act, commissioners continue to compound the problem with increasing permit and licensing fees.

Fees as a Revenue Strategy

As part of the county’s “7% exercise” during 2025 budget discussions, Department of Community Development Director Bruce Emery proposed increases to permit and land division fees.

Those changes drove license and permit revenue up by roughly $300,000 in 2025, climbing from a relatively stable baseline of about $1 million in prior years.

Revenues are projected to increase by another $54,000 in 2026, largely due to additional DCD fee hikes.

During a July 29th, 2025 departmental budget meeting, Commissioner French supported the increases, stating:

“The building community would prefer reliability… and they are less sensitive to cost.”

But as fees rise, the burden ultimately falls on residents—many of whom are already priced out of building or buying a home.

Behind the Curtain: Internal Discussions on Raising Fees

What’s being proposed publicly is only part of the story.

During an October 15th, 2025 departmental budget meeting with commissioners, Department of Community Development Director Bruce Emery outlined a more detailed—and more strategic—approach to increasing fee revenue.

At one point, Emery acknowledged that even automatic fee increases tied to inflation may not currently be lawful without further action:

“We had instruction to work on our fee schedule… it turns out because this stuff is encoded in an ordinance, it requires an ordinance update before being legal.”

That raises a key question: if CPI-based increases require formal ordinance updates, how are ongoing adjustments being handled now?

The discussion quickly shifted from compliance to opportunity.

Emery pointed to specific areas where fees could be increased to generate more revenue—particularly mechanical permits, which cover common systems like furnaces, heat pumps, and ductless mini-splits. While individual permit fees in this category are often relatively small, they apply to a high volume of routine work, meaning even modest increases can add up quickly across the county.

“Our mechanical permit fees are pretty small and we have many of them… given the number of them that we do every year, [these fees] could have a substantial impact on our revenue.”

He also proposed expanding fees into new areas entirely—suggesting that IT-related services be built into permit costs:

“Include a technical service fee along with our permitting structure… that would increase revenues for IT and offset general fund necessity.”

County staff were explicit about the broader goal. Deputy CFO Rebecca Turner described the approach this way:

“We’re trying to think creatively this year… to come up with things [to raise fee revenue] that we haven’t thought of before.”

Even enforcement mechanisms were discussed as potential revenue drivers, including shifting more costs onto residents who challenge code violations.

Taken together, the conversation reflects more than routine cost recovery. It points to an active effort to identify, expand, and institutionalize new revenue streams—often through fees that residents have little ability to avoid.

[Watch the discussion here starting at 3:15:15.]

“If Your Friends Jump Off a Cliff…”

The commissioners, DCD, and Environmental Health often justify fee increases by benchmarking against other counties.

But permitting departments function as localized monopolies—there is no alternative provider for building, septic, or well permits.

Residents must either pay the fees, stop building, or leave.

In private markets, coordinated pricing among captive customers would be considered “collusion.” In county government, it’s policy.

Meanwhile, fees in states like Texas and Idaho are significantly lower than in Washington and Clallam.

Even the City of Port Angeles offers targeted fee exemptions, recognizing the impact of fees on affordability.

In stark contrast, a local Clallam County contractor recently received a $4,000 estimate from the Building Department for permits and fees to construct a pole barn—with no living space included.

“Cost Recovery” vs. Taxpayer Reality

The county also claims that it must justify the cost of providing services. But, these are services that are essential to citizens of the county.

Health Officer Allison Berry stated,

“A lot of the reasoning behind that is to make sure that costs are actually covered by the fee. There’s a pressure to avoid draining down the general fund for any of these programs. So if you can charge a fee to fund what we do, make sure that fee is adequate to fund those operations.”

But citizens already pay property and sales taxes to fund essential county services—including permitting. They also pay taxes to the state and federal government, some of which returns to the county through grants that often fund nonessential activities.

Addicted to Grants

From 2018 to 2024:

• Bellevue Consumer Price Index (CPI) rose 30.4% (used as Clallam’s benchmark)

• County tax revenues increased 39.3%

• Property tax revenue rose 17%

• County expenses surged 51.6%

• Federal and state grant revenue skyrocketed 125.7%

(Source: WA State Auditor’s FIT Tool)

The pattern is clear: spending is outpacing both inflation and revenue growth.

When grants decline, programs are rarely cut.

For example, the county continues funding WSU Extension at roughly $50,000 annually, even as grant sources like SNAP diminish. Rather than reduce spending, the county plans to offset the gap with $54,000 in additional fees in 2026.

Health Officer Berry articulated the county’s strategy of raising fees to sustain grant-funded programs,

“Similarly, with cuts at the state level, there’s not a lot of extra wiggle…they’re no longer funding the kind of grants we used to see to fill in gaps of our programs. So, now the only way to fund it is through the fees.”

With federal and state budgets under pressure, Clallam’s reliance on grant revenue has leaders scrambling to replace it—often through higher fees on local taxpayers.

Affordability at the Top

While fee increases erode housing affordability, elected and appointed officials continue to receive raises and benefits—despite earning well above the county median.

Forgoing those increases and vehicle perks would save taxpayers an estimated $224,000 in 2026 alone.

Instead of cutting programs as grants dry up or foregoing costly wage and benefit increases, county leaders have chosen to undermine housing affordability by passing these costs on to taxpayers through higher fees.

A Permanent Upward Ratchet

During the March 17th Board of Health meeting, Environmental Health staff indicated that fee increases are becoming a core part of the county’s budgeting approach:

“Last budget cycle, the CFO’s office requested CPI increases for fees across the county.”

In practical terms, this suggests the county is moving toward a two-tiered strategy: applying annual, across-the-board fee increases tied to CPI, while also implementing larger, department-specific increases every few years.

Commissioner French expanded on this approach:

“When you don’t update your fees on a regular basis, there’s big sticker shock when you do… We want to just have a pretty regular, reliable [increase]… We’re proposing to kind of re-look at that deep review every three years and in the off years, just try to take the CPI.”

In other words, fees will continue to rise annually—incrementally enough to avoid immediate backlash, but steadily enough to compound over time.

Until, eventually, many residents are priced out altogether.

What can you do?

Make your voice heard—before these decisions are finalized.

Email the Commissioners by contacting the Clerk of the Board at loni.gores@clallamcountywa.gov and let them know where you stand on increasing fees and decreasing affordability.

Show up in person on Tuesday, April 21st at the Board of Health meeting and provide public comment at 1:30 PM. Public input matters—especially when decisions directly impact the cost of living in our community.

If you don’t speak up now, these “small” increases won’t stay small for long.

Leave a comment

If you’ve been wondering what’s really happening in Clallam County—and why the same names keep showing up in police reports—tonight is your chance to hear directly from those responsible. This isn’t theory. It’s not policy language. It’s real cases, real patterns, and real consequences. And it’s happening in your community.

Tonight from 6:30 to 8:30 PM at the Fairview Grange Hall on Lake Farm Road, the Calico Cat Social Club is hosting a Public Safety Town Hall.

On the panel:

• County Commissioner Mike French

• Prosecutor Mark Nichols

• Sheriff Brian King

• Port Angeles Police Chief Brian Smith

They will be taking questions directly from the public.

Commissioner Randy Johnson is unable to attend due to family matters. Commissioner Mark Ozias declined to participate.

So if you want answers—this is who will be in the room.

And there are a lot of questions that need answering.

600 Miles Away… and Now Here

Aram Keshian, 25, was arrested this week on a failure to appear warrant.

Three years ago, he was in the Boise, Idaho area—over 600 miles away—dealing with charges for driving without privileges.

Now he’s here.

That raises a basic question:
Why Clallam County?

Why are individuals with criminal histories traveling across state lines and ending up in our system?

Is it policy?
Is it enforcement?
Is it incentives?

Because once they’re here, it’s not free—it’s on the taxpayer. Jail stays, medical care, food, services. The bill doesn’t follow them back to Idaho. It stays here.

A Known Offender, A Familiar Pattern

Joshua Mirka, 49, arrested again for failure to appear.

Mirka is not an unknown name. He is a registered sex offender, listed as transient out of Shelton, with a history that includes:

• Indecent liberties

• Third-degree rape

• Vehicle theft

• Retail theft

This isn’t new behavior—it’s a long pattern.

Back in 2017, he was involved in stealing vehicles across multiple states, ending up near the Mexican border. Law enforcement at the time even noted that jurisdictions outside Washington tend to be far more aggressive in prosecution and sentencing.

And yet, here he is again—back in the system.

At some point, the question becomes unavoidable:
Is this system interrupting behavior—or just documenting it?

The Revolving Door in Real Time

Macllin Heaward.

Arrested yesterday.
Also arrested twice last month.

This is the same individual who violently assaulted a Clallam Transit operator, caught on video.

An attack serious enough that community leaders were notified—but one that received minimal public attention from legacy media.

And now?

Back in the system. Again.

This is what people mean when they talk about a “cycle.” It’s not abstract. It’s not theoretical. It’s the same individuals, over and over.

Meanwhile, the buses and the Gateway Transit Center—used by working people, students, and families—are becoming less predictable, less safe.

So the question becomes:
Are we waiting for the next incident?

A Career Criminal Still Operating

Joshua Wilson, 43.

Recently arrested for burglary and malicious mischief after being caught inside a home.

His record isn’t short—it stretches back years:

• Firearm charges

• Assaulting an officer

• Meth-related offenses

• More than ten felony convictions

• Multiple prison sentences

He is also a transient Level I sex offender, operating under multiple aliases.

And just days ago—another incident.

A Washington State Patrol stop turned into:

• Attempted flight

• Physical resistance

• Discovery of 70 grams of fentanyl

• Methamphetamine, cocaine, and other substances

• Digital scales

• Nearly $1,800 cash

• A shotgun with the serial number filed off

• Stolen property

Many of the items visible in the photo—glass pipes, foil, and other paraphernalia—are the same types of materials commonly distributed through the County’s Harm Reduction Health Center.

This is not low-level activity. This is distribution-level narcotics, stolen goods, and weapon violations.

And yet—this individual was still operating in the region.

At some point, it stops being about one person and starts being about what the system allows to continue.

Three Arrests in One Month — Same Person

Sergey Kubai.

Three separate DUI-drug arrests in December.
Each time—more narcotics found.

Fentanyl. Meth. Heroin. Cocaine.
A stolen firearm.
Evidence consistent with trafficking.

Three arrests. Same behavior.

And the outcome?

A DOSA sentence—Drug Offender Sentencing Alternative. Reduced prison time in exchange for treatment.

The theory behind DOSA is straightforward: address addiction, reduce recidivism.

But here’s the disconnect:

This wasn’t a one-time offender.
This was repeated, escalating behavior—including impaired driving on public roads.

So the question people are asking is simple:
At what point does “treatment-first” stop protecting the public?

Because three DUI-drug arrests in one month means these are the people sharing the road with families at highway speeds.

The Bigger Question

These aren’t isolated incidents.

They form a pattern:

• Repeat offenders

• Known histories

• Out-of-area individuals entering the system

• Arrest → release → reoffend

And while officials talk about models, strategies, and long-term solutions, residents are watching the same names come up again and again.

There’s a difference between understanding a problem…

…and allowing it to continue unchecked.

When Leadership Sends the Wrong Signal

You also have to look at the broader tone being set in this county.

A current county commissioner has stated that property destruction is “usually the only way we’ve ever seen actual change happen.”

When leadership normalizes or excuses destruction as a pathway to change, what message does that send?

Because we’ve already seen what that looks like on the ground.

Eco-activist Tim Wheeler was filmed causing thousands of dollars in damage to public land—and walked away without meaningful consequences.

That’s not theory. That’s precedent.

So when residents see repeat offenders cycling through the system, when they see enforcement inconsistencies, and then hear elected officials downplay or even justify destructive behavior, it raises a bigger concern:

Are we reinforcing accountability—or eroding it?

Why Tonight Matters

Tonight is not a presentation.

It’s not a lecture.

It’s a chance to sit across from the people responsible for:

• Charging decisions

• Enforcement priorities

• Policy direction

And ask them directly:

Is this working?
And if not—what changes need to be made?

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

Not everyone wants this conversation happening.

Indivisible Sequim, backed by the League of Women Voters, is encouraging members to attend, warning that discussions like this could lead to “cruelty” toward vulnerable populations.

But that raises a serious question:

Who are the vulnerable?

• The parent walking a child past tents and debris

• The transit rider after a violent assault

• The small business owner dealing with theft

• The resident whose neighborhood is changing in ways they didn’t vote for

• The children at the pool where transient sex offenders are allowed to shower

Public safety is not an attack on the vulnerable.

It is a basic expectation of government.

Trying to shut down that conversation—or reframe it as harmful—doesn’t solve anything.

It just avoids it.

This is Important

If you’ve read this far, you already know what’s at stake.

You can scroll past it.
You can talk about it online.

Or you can show up.

Tonight. 6:30 PM. Fairview Grange Hall.

Because the people making decisions will be there.

The only question is whether you will be too.

Just three months into his role on the Port Angeles City Council, Mark Hodgson is already aiming higher—announcing a run for the State House while pushing one of the city’s most expensive and controversial policies: keeping all public bathrooms open 24/7. But as questions linger about his past attendance, residency, and priorities, critics are asking whether this is leadership—or the early signs of another political stepping stone.

Mark Hodgson has officially announced his candidacy for the Washington State House of Representatives, signaling that his ambitions extend well beyond Port Angeles City Hall. But for many watching closely, the announcement raises a more immediate question: what kind of leadership is he demonstrating right now?

That question becomes harder to ignore when looking at the record.

Last year, as a member of the Clallam County Charter Review Commission, Hodgson had the worst attendance out of all 15 commissioners—a body tasked with shaping the county’s foundational governing document. It was a serious responsibility, yet one that, by the numbers, didn’t receive consistent participation.

At the same time, questions surrounding his residency have never been publicly addressed. During his run for Port Angeles City Council, Hodgson reportedly listed Olympia as his residence, even as he campaigned locally. Those concerns were raised publicly but never fully clarified.

Now on City Council, the pattern hasn’t exactly inspired confidence. Hodgson:

• Missed his very first council meeting in January

• Had his swearing-in delayed due to “work obligations”

• Was, at the time, reportably living and working as a State Trooper in Olympia

He has since transferred to Clallam County, and is quickly gaining a local reputation as a no-nonsense state trooper.

But the broader concern remains: how rooted is his focus here in Port Angeles and Clallam County?

Because already, the attention appears to be shifting.

The Bathroom Debate: Cost vs. Policy Direction

At a recent council discussion, Hodgson’s first major motion was striking:

• Keep all three city bathrooms open 24 hours a day

• And begin identifying locations for two additional bathrooms

This came despite clear warnings from city staff.

The Port Angeles Parks Department reported:

“Since 2023, our department has spent nearly a half a million dollars just cleaning our outdoor restrooms.”

Let that sink in—$500,000 just to clean bathrooms.

And the problems aren’t minor:

• Clothes and syringes flushed into plumbing

• Toilets requiring removal from the floor to clear blockages

• Frequent damage, biohazards, and safety concerns

Staff were already considering a scaled-back approach:

• One 24-hour restroom

• Two others daytime-only

Why? Because they don’t have enough staff to maintain them now.

One staff member, speaking candidly, admitted:

“We don’t clean everything that we should… I wouldn’t take my kids there.”

That’s not a political talking point—that’s the reality on the ground.

Not a “Middle Ground”

Hodgson has positioned himself as a middle-of-the-road problem solver. But based on the meeting, his position is clear: expand access, even as costs and misuse spiral.

That’s not moderation—that’s doubling down.

And it aligns with comments he made at a recent Port Angeles Business Association meeting, where he expressed support for low-barrier housing—a model that allows continued drug and alcohol use.

Taken together, the philosophy becomes clearer:

• Keep facilities open, regardless of misuse

• Expand services, even when they’re already overwhelmed

• Absorb the cost—passed on to taxpayers

A Familiar Pattern?

There’s a bigger concern here.

Running for state office just months into a local term raises the possibility that Port Angeles is not the priority—it’s the platform.

If that sounds familiar, it should.

The Charter Review Commission already saw what happens when responsibilities take a back seat. Now, some are wondering if the City Council is next.

Because when:

• Attendance is inconsistent

• Residency questions go unanswered

• Major policy pushes ignore operational realities

…it doesn’t suggest balance.

It suggests ambition outpacing accountability.

Bottom Line

Mark Hodgson’s push for 24-hour bathrooms isn’t just about restrooms.

It’s a window into:

• His policy priorities

• His governing philosophy

• And how he may approach higher office

At a time when the city is already struggling to maintain what it has, the question isn’t whether bathrooms are important.

It’s whether this approach is sustainable—or just the beginning of more costly decisions to come.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit: Emily Randall

Congresswoman Emily Randall responded to a concerned Clallam County resident with a form letter that tries to have it both ways—praising the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge as a vital public asset while signaling support for transferring it into trust for the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe. She leans heavily on phrases like “since time immemorial” and tribal stewardship, but avoids the obvious tension: land held in public trust doesn’t stay public once it’s transferred to a sovereign nation.

She promises to “ensure public access,” yet backs a process that could put that access out of local control entirely. There’s no real acknowledgment of growing public concern or what enforceable protections would remain. For a representative elected to serve her constituents, the letter reads less like advocacy for the people of the 6th District—and more like a careful defense of a decision already heading in one direction.

Dear [Redacted],

Thank you for reaching out to my office to share your thoughts on the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge and potential land transfer to the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe. As your representative in Congress, hearing from folks in Washington’s 6th District is incredibly important to me, and I truly appreciate your time and your perspective.

As you may know, the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge in Clallam County includes one of the world’s longest sand spits, and is home to more than 300 species including types of fish, mammals, birds, and more. These lands are invaluable not just for their natural beauty, but also for the benefits they provide to our communities and to our economies. Furthermore, wildlife refuges are a crucial cornerstone of our country’s conservation obligation. It is imperative that we protect areas like the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge from any harm, whether that be from plastic pollution, offshore drilling, or ocean mining.

The Dungeness Watershed is located in the ancestral homeland of the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The Tribe has fished, gathered, hunted, and conducted ceremonies in the area since time immemorial. For over 30 years, the Tribe has worked with Clallam County and other partners through the Dungeness River Management Team (DRMT) to protect the watershed and meet the needs of both people and wildlife. Important plans, such as the 1994 Dungeness-Quilcene Water Resources Plan, helped guide fair water use, including an agreement that limits how much river water can be used for irrigation so enough remains for fish. Later updates improved water conservation and set minimum river flow levels to protect fish habitats. The Tribe has played a key role in these efforts and continues to work with farmers, local governments, and environmental groups to protect the land and reduce pollution.

The Tribe has been engaged in co-management of the tidelands since 1990, and in 2024, reached an agreement with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to establish co-management of the refuge. The Tribe is seeking a land transfer for the Dungeness Refuge to be held in trust, which means the federal government, through the Department of Interior (DOI), would hold the title to the land for the benefit of the Tribe. Land transfers require an act of Congress and there is precedent for federally owned lands, within established refuges, ranges, and other federally designated lands, to be transferred into trusts for Tribes. I plan to work closely with the Tribe, the County, local community members, the relevant state and federal agencies, and other members of our congressional delegation to ensure that any land transfer continues to safeguard public access and protects these areas for generations to come.

As you know, these lands are invaluable not just for their natural beauty, but also for the benefits they provide to our communities, like the ability to hunt, hike, fish, and camp. These benefits are strengthened when Tribal stewardship and sovereignty are respected and upheld. As a member of the Subcommittee on Indian and Insular Affairs within the House Natural Resources Committee, I am committed to advocating for Tribal sovereignty and working alongside Indigenous leaders to support policies that uplift Tribal Nations across the country. I will continue advocating for policies that safeguard our wildlife and public lands, protect our environment, and honor Tribal sovereignty and self-determination.

Thank you again for sharing what matters to you. If you would like to stay up to date with my work on behalf of Washington’s 6th Congressional District, connect with me on Instagram, Facebook, Bluesky, and subscribe to my newsletter. If you need help with a federal agency, such as the VA, IRS, or USCIS, my office is here to assist. Please visit this link or call my Bremerton District Office at (360) 373-9725 or my Tacoma District Office at (253) 272-3515.

Sincerely,

Emily Randall
Member of Congress

The North Olympic Library System is asking voters to approve a significant tax increase—but critics say the modern library looks very different from the one taxpayers think they’re funding. From shifting priorities to declining usage, here are the key facts worth considering before you cast your ballot.

A Changing Institution

For generations, libraries have been seen as quiet, neutral places—focused on books, learning, and access to information. The North Olympic Library System (NOLS), serving Clallam County, has long been part of that tradition.

But today’s library is evolving.

Walk into the newly opened Sequim branch, and one of the first things you might see is a prominently displayed nonfiction title like “The Politics Book: Big Ideas Explained Simply.”

Its cover features provocative historical slogans such as “Property is theft” and “We need to cut off the king’s head”—a signal, some argue, of a broader shift in tone and priorities.

At the same time, NOLS is asking voters to approve a levy increase. Before making that decision, here are ten key points to consider before voting.

1. The Library’s Role Is Expanding Beyond Books

NOLS has increasingly positioned itself as more than a traditional library—exploring roles in social services, community outreach, and public health support.

2. Discussions Around Social Service Functions

There have been conversations and initiatives tied to providing resources such as food access, harm-reduction tools, and broader community assistance—raising questions about whether this aligns with core library functions.

3. Use as a Warming or Day Shelter Space

NOLS facilities are sometimes promoted as daytime refuge spaces, particularly during extreme weather—something critics view as mission drift.

4. Programming Reflects Broader Social Themes

Book displays, events, and programming have included topics tied to activism, equity, and social justice—prompting debate over whether the library is taking on a more advocacy-oriented role.

5. Partnerships with Civic Organizations

NOLS regularly partners with groups such as the partisan League of Women Voters for forums, workshops, and civic engagement events—raising questions for some about balance in public-facing programming.

6. Internal Priorities: Staffing and Work Structure

Library planning documents and discussions have included goals around expanded employee benefits and exploring alternative work structures, including shorter workweeks.

7. Investment in Training and Consulting

Over $50,000 in funding has been directed toward training and consulting, including DEI-focused programming and outside facilitators, such as Miriam Cherbib, who once recommended, “Do not have words that are too triggering… even the word ‘conversation’ can be dividing.”

8. Usage Trends and Metrics

Reports and analyses have pointed to declines in traditional usage metrics (such as physical circulation). Despite rising costs and staffing, nearly every measure of library use has declined since 2018:

• Active cardholders decreased 23%

• Library visits sunk 31.7%

• Circulation dropped 20.6%

• Program attendance declined 19.2%

• Computer use plummeted 51%

• Website visits fell 24.5% (despite digital expansion)

9. Budget Growth vs. Core Services

The library’s spending priorities have gradually shifted away from core services and toward programming and administration—and the numbers reflect a system that’s grown significantly in recent years.

NOLS’ operating budget has increased from $4.5 million in 2018 to a projected $7.3 million in 2026, a 62% jump.

Much of that growth is driven by personnel costs. Salaries and benefits have risen 53% over that same period, outpacing the Seattle–Bellevue Consumer Price Index, which climbed 34.5%. As a result, staffing now accounts for roughly 71% of the library’s operating expenses, up from 67% in 2018.

10. The Size of the Levy Increase

The proposed levy represents a substantial increase in taxpayer funding—transforming this from a routine renewal into a broader decision about the future direction and scope of the North Olympic Library System. And it comes at a time when many residents are already feeling the strain of rising costs, making affordability a central concern in a county still facing economic challenges.

At its core, this vote is about more than funding a library—it’s about defining what a library should be.

Is it primarily a place for books, literacy, and quiet study?
Or is it evolving into a broader community hub with expanded social and civic roles?

With the April 28th special election approaching, voters will decide on Proposition 1, which would raise the levy rate by roughly 60%, from $0.28 to $0.45 per $1,000 of assessed value. Few would dispute the importance of libraries—but many are asking deeper questions about management, priorities, and whether the current direction aligns with community expectations.

Concerns outlined in the official “Against” statement point to issues such as financial oversight, transparency in material selection, collection policies, and shifting budget priorities. To help inform that discussion, Dr. Sarah has provided a short, fact-based video summarizing publicly available information, including audit findings, vendor relationships, and policy language.

This isn’t about opposing libraries. It’s about examining how a publicly funded institution—one that relies on taxpayers for nearly 90% of its operating budget—is operating, and whether it reflects the accountability, transparency, and community alignment residents expect.

Ultimately, the decision rests with voters:

What role should the library play?
What priorities should it reflect?
And what level of funding—and oversight—does that vision require?

Those are the questions on the ballot.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit: Public Health Week

Clallam County Health and Human Services is marking “Public Health Week” with a colorful display outside its 3rd Street offices in Port Angeles.

But step back and take in the full scene.

Just beyond the sign, the parking lot is lined with tents, with people stretched out on the pavement. In a nearby alcove—next to a Narcan dispenser—individuals appear to be actively using drugs.

The contrast is hard to ignore: a celebration of public health on one side, and visible, ongoing addiction on the other. For many residents, it raises a difficult question—are current policies actually improving conditions, or simply managing them in plain sight?

What started as “co-stewardship” may be the final step in a much longer strategy. Documents—and now outside reporting—show the Jamestown Corporation has been laying the groundwork for years to control the Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges—raising serious questions about access, accountability, and what happens next.

There’s a difference between stewardship and ownership—and right now, Clallam County residents are being asked to ignore that distinction.

Buried in federal testimony submitted by Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe Chairman and CEO Ron Allen is confirmation of what many have suspected: his Corporation is not just participating in management of the Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges—it is actively investing in long-term control over them.

The document highlights a Self-Governance Co-Stewardship Agreement established in August 2024 between the Jamestown Corporation and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. That agreement covers both refuges and comes with federal funding requests to support ongoing operations.

But here’s the part that should stop people in their tracks:

This isn’t a short-term partnership. It’s a foothold.

From “Co-Stewardship” to Control

The Jamestown Corporation’s testimony emphasizes “self-governance,” “autonomy,” and the expansion of tribal control over federally managed lands and programs.

That language matters.

Because once you move from advisory input…
to co-management…
to self-governance…

…the next logical step is ownership.

And outside reporting now confirms just how quickly that transition is happening.

The co-management agreement—signed in August 2024—was the first of its kind in Washington State, and it didn’t just give the Jamestown Corporation a seat at the table. It gave them operational control. In fact, the Jamestown Corporation is already leading day-to-day operations at both refuges, including interacting with visitors and managing site activity.

Less than two years after gaining operational control, the push is already underway for full ownership.

That’s not evolution. That’s acceleration.

A Federal Strategy Already in Motion

The same reporting makes something else clear: this isn’t just local.

The co-management agreement was part of a broader federal push to either:

• Transfer federal lands back to tribes

• Or move toward co-management as a stepping stone

That context matters because it reframes what’s happening here.

This isn’t a one-off agreement.

It’s part of a national policy direction—one where co-management is often the middle step, not the end goal.

What Happens When It’s No Longer Public Land?

There’s something that often gets glossed over:

Tribal land is not public land.

Access is not guaranteed. Oversight is not the same. And legal recourse becomes significantly more limited due to tribal sovereign immunity, which generally shields tribes from lawsuits unless they waive that protection.

That’s not speculation—that’s established law—and it’s already playing out locally.

A federal lawsuit challenging the refuge agreement is currently underway, but notably, the Tribe itself is not named in the suit because of sovereign immunity protections.

So while some may picture continued public access, others are asking a more realistic question:

What happens when a sign goes up that reads:

“Welcome to OUR LAND — Tribal citizens only.”

Because while non-tribal residents are welcome at revenue-generating properties—like the casino, gas station, golf course, or MAT clinic—there are already clear examples of tribal spaces that are restricted:

• Private beaches

• Tribal gyms

• Community facilities

The distinction is simple:
If it generates revenue, access is open.
If it doesn’t, access is limited.

Now apply that model to a national wildlife refuge.

The Oyster Operation Waiting in the Wings

There’s another piece of this story that hasn’t gotten enough attention.

Plans have already been discussed to establish a commercial oyster harvesting operation using non-native species within the refuge boundaries—a proposal that has raised serious environmental concerns and triggered legal challenges.

Environmental watchdogs have warned that converting refuge waters into a commercial shellfish operation could permanently alter the ecosystem, turning protected habitat into an industrial aquaculture site.

Right now, that effort is slowed—if not outright blocked—by lawsuits, permitting hurdles, and federal oversight.

But if ownership shifts?

Those barriers don’t just weaken—they disappear.

Control over permitting, environmental review, and enforcement becomes far more favorable to the entity that owns the land.

That’s not a theory. That’s how jurisdiction works.

A Strategic Timeline—And a Critical Deadline

The co-management agreement itself is not permanent.

It is set to be revisited after two years—this August.

So ask yourself:

Is the push for ownership happening now because of uncertainty about what happens next?

If the agreement is up for review…
If federal agencies reassess performance…
If public scrutiny increases…

Then locking in ownership before that happens would eliminate those risks entirely.

From Management to Legislative Transfer

And now we’re seeing the next phase play out in real time.

The Jamestown Corporation is actively seeking federal legislation to transfer over 900 acres of land—including both wildlife refuges—into tribal ownership.

That includes:

• 608 acres at Dungeness

• Nearly 300 acres at Protection Island

• Additional parcels near Sequim Bay

This isn’t hypothetical.

It’s already being discussed in Congress.

The “Underserved” Narrative vs. Economic Reality

In federal testimony, the Tribe emphasizes funding needs, service gaps, and the importance of federal investment.

But notably absent is any clear statement that the Tribe itself is economically distressed.

That omission stands out—especially when compared to the Tribe’s own land transfer materials, which focus not on hardship, but on expanding control, strengthening resource management, and creating economic opportunity.

This isn’t framed as a lifeline. It’s framed as a strategic expansion.

Because locally, Chairman Ron Allen has stated the Tribe has an annual budget of over $100 million, for just over 200 members.

So which is it?

A vulnerable, underserved community in need of federal expansion?
Or a financially established entity seeking to grow its land base, authority, and revenue potential?

That contradiction deserves more scrutiny than it’s getting.

The Federal Ask: More Control, More Funding, More Authority

The same testimony outlines a broad set of requests to Congress:

• Expanded funding for tribal natural resource management

• Increased control over fisheries and wildlife programs

• Mandatory federal funding streams

• Greater autonomy through self-governance structures

Individually, these may seem reasonable.

Taken together, they form a clear pattern:

Consolidation of authority. Expansion of control. Reduction of external oversight.

And now—potentially—ownership of federal land.

Who’s Really Writing the Letters?

Here’s where things take a turn locally.

Today at 9:00 AM, Clallam County Commissioners will consider sending a letter supporting the transfer of these refuges to the Tribe.

Tonight at 6:00 PM, the Sequim City Council will consider supporting that same effort.

But the letter being presented as a “city” position was actually authored by Jamestown CEO Ron Allen.

This is local leadership:

A letter written by the Tribe…
Presented as coming from local governments…
Is being used to support transferring federal land to that same Tribe.

What Can Residents Do?

For those asking what recourse still exists, there are steps you can take.

Concerned resident Pepai Whipple recently reached out to State Representative Jim Walsh, who recommended that residents contact the current White House administration and the Department of the Interior to express opposition to the proposed transfer.

He also suggested reaching out directly to U.S. Representative Michael Baumgartner to make your position known.

At this stage, federal decision-makers will play a central role in determining whether this transfer moves forward—and constituent input still carries weight.

If this issue matters to you, now is the time to speak up.

• Contact Congressman Baumgartner here.

• Contact the Department of the Interior here.

• Contact the White House here.

The Bigger Question

At what point does cooperation become capitulation?

Because this isn’t just about land.

It’s about:

• Public access

• Environmental oversight

• Economic control

• And whether local residents still have a voice in decisions that reshape their own community

The Jamestown Tribe didn’t arrive at this moment overnight.

Federal policy opened the door.
Co-management stepped through it.
Now ownership is knocking.

And now, in a matter of hours, local leaders may take the next step in making it permanent.

The question is whether anyone is willing to stop and ask:

Who does this really serve—and what do we lose if it happens?

Ron Allen Federal Testimony

244KB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

They Took Down a Sign. They Didn’t Slow the Movement.

Six months in, with six more to go, County Commissioner candidate Jake Seegers’ campaign just hit a moment that says more than any speech ever could.

Late Friday night—or early Saturday morning—one of his most visible signs, near the Walmart roundabout in Sequim, was torn down and slashed. It sat on private property, placed there by supporters willing to stand behind the message—and the man.

That sign mattered. Not just because of where it stood, but because of what it represented.

It was paid for by everyday people. Folks who chipped in $10. Others who gave more. Local businesses investing in the idea that Clallam County can do better—with leadership grounded in transparency, accountability, and real results.

And when something like that gets destroyed, it raises a bigger question about the tone we’re setting in this community.

Especially when we have a sitting commissioner, Mike French, who has publicly suggested that property destruction can be justified—that sometimes it’s “the only way we’ve ever seen actual change happen.”

Think about that.

Because whether intended or not, that kind of rhetoric sets a tone. And when the tone shifts, behavior often follows.

But here’s the part that matters most:

Tearing down a sign doesn’t erase what’s behind it.

If anything, it reinforces it.

Jake isn’t backed by a political machine. He’s running as an independent—powered by people who want common sense back in local government. People who are tired of being ignored, tired of watching decisions get made without clear metrics, and tired of leadership that talks past them instead of to them.

That kind of campaign doesn’t get shaken by one act of vandalism.

It gets stronger.

So yes—expect more signs.
And maybe expect more pushback, too.

But also expect this:

For every sign that comes down, more will go up.
For every attempt to intimidate, more people will step forward.

Because Jake isn’t just running against an opponent—he’s running to change a culture. One that, for too long, has looked the other way when standards slip.

Clallam County deserves better than that.

Jake’s halfway there. And he’s just getting started.

If you’ve got a visible spot for a sign, now’s the time.

Email vote@jakeseegers.com.

Learn more about Jake

In this Sundays With Seegers podcast-only feature, County Commissioner candidate Jake Seegers sits down with Jen, a recovering addict who has lived the cycle so many policymakers only talk about. Now housed but still fighting for sobriety, Jen opens up about her past homelessness, her ongoing recovery, and the painful reality of loving someone—her boyfriend Joe—who is still living in active addiction along Tumwater Creek.

The conversation stems from a recent walk through the encampments with local advocate Stacey Richards, whose growing platform is shedding light on what many believe are failed local policies. What Jake and Stacey found wasn’t just another encampment—it was a story that challenges the narrative.

Jen describes what brought her and Joe to Clallam County, what it’s really like inside the Serenity House shelter, and why staying sober can feel nearly impossible when drug use is tolerated just steps away. At one point, she puts it bluntly: “I would rather be in a tent than around all that.”

She shares her firsthand experience with the Jamestown MAT clinic—what worked, what didn’t—and offers an unfiltered perspective on medication-assisted treatment. She reflects on how harm reduction has changed over time, recalling when needle exchanges required actual exchanges, and contrasts that with what she says she sees now: supplies handed out freely, including items like meth pipes.

Her observations don’t stop there. Jen challenges assumptions about services in Clallam County, calling it “the first place I’ve seen spoiled homeless people,” and raises a difficult question: what happens to people like Joe if outdoor camping is no longer allowed?

Perhaps most striking is her comparison between high-barrier and low-barrier recovery environments. She makes a clear distinction between what works—and what people in addiction are most likely to choose.

She closes with a message aimed directly at local leadership, laying out what she believes the true impact of current policies has been—not in theory, but on the ground.

Jake continues to seek out some of the bravest voices in the community—people willing to speak openly about the darkest chapters of their lives—because even a small chance of changing the trajectory of these policies is worth it.

Leave a comment

Editor’s Note: CC Watchdog editor Jeff Tozzer also serves as campaign manager for Jake Seegers during his run for Clallam County Commissioner, District 3. Learn more at www.JakeSeegers.com.

While county commissioners here debate letters of support and hold work sessions, a federal program has already transferred nearly 3 million acres into tribal control—by design. The same strategy now mirrors what’s happening in Clallam County, where land, influence, and decision-making power are steadily shifting. The question isn’t whether this is happening. It’s whether anyone representing local residents is willing to say it out loud.

This Isn’t New—It’s Been Happening for a Decade

For years, residents have been told that land transfers, trust acquisitions, and expanding tribal influence are isolated decisions—case-by-case, unique, and limited.

They’re not.

They’re part of a coordinated federal strategy.

According to a Department of the Interior report, the federal government has:

• Paid out $1.69 billion

• Consolidated nearly 3 million acres

• Worked hand-in-hand with tribes to identify and prioritize land for transfer

All under a program specifically designed to move land into permanent tribal trust ownership.

This isn’t speculation. It’s policy.

Local Case: The Wildlife Refuge Push Isn’t an Outlier

Now bring it home.

In Clallam County, we’re watching a strikingly similar pattern unfold:

• The Jamestown Corporation pursuing control of Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges

• Local governments being asked to provide letters of support

• Public concern being brushed aside as misunderstanding or opposition

Sound familiar?

It should.

Because the federal report makes clear that:

• Tribes help identify priority lands

• Federal agencies work to align acquisitions with tribal goals

• Outreach and coordination are built to facilitate those transfers

In other words, what’s happening here fits the model exactly.

Where Does Ron Allen Fit Into This?

Let’s be precise.

There is no direct mention of Jamestown S’Klallam Chairman Ron Allen in this specific federal report.

However:

• The program emphasizes strong federal-tribal partnerships

• It relies heavily on tribal leadership to guide priorities

• It promotes nation-to-nation coordination and influence

Ron Allen is widely recognized as one of the most politically connected and influential tribal leaders in Washington State, particularly in federal policy circles.

So while he’s not named in this document, the type of leadership structure the program depends on is exactly the kind of influence he operates within.

That matters.

Because it shows that what may appear locally as a single tribe’s initiative is often supported by a much larger federal framework and network of relationships.

The Priority Problem: Who Is Government Working For?

One of the most revealing lines in the report isn’t hidden—it’s stated plainly:

• Tribal input was “critical”

• Efforts were tailored to tribal priorities

• Land selection was guided by tribal leadership

Now ask the obvious question:

Where in this process are county residents represented?

Where is:

• The taxpayer?

• The neighboring landowner?

• The competing local business?

• The public that has used these lands for generations?

They’re not in the framework.

The Long Game: This Looks a Lot Like “Land Back”

The report avoids political language—but the direction is clear.

It openly calls for:

• Continued land consolidation

• Additional funding to expand the program

• Policies that increase tribal land control and jurisdiction

That’s not a short-term fix.

That’s a long-term transfer strategy.

Call it what you want—but functionally, it aligns with what many now describe as the landback movement.

The Silence at the Local Level

Here’s the uncomfortable part.

This is all happening while:

• County commissioners rarely challenge or question these efforts

• Letters of support are considered with minimal scrutiny

• Public concern is often dismissed or ignored

And yet, the consequences are real:

• Land moves out of the local tax base

• Regulatory authority shifts

• Economic competition becomes uneven

This isn’t about opposing tribes.

It’s about asking whether your elected officials are representing you in a system where others clearly have a seat at the table.

The Pattern Is the Story

This isn’t about one land transfer.

It’s not about one tribe.

It’s about a repeatable, scalable model that has already reshaped land ownership across the country—and is now visible in Clallam County.

The federal government calls it restoration.

Tribal leaders call it sovereignty.

But for local residents, the question is simpler:

Who is making sure your interests are part of the conversation?

Leave a comment

Download the Land Buyback Program for Tribal Nations here:

Tribe Land Buy Back Program

13.2MB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Today’s Tidbit: The Olympic Herald

If you aren’t subscribed to the Olympic Herald, you should be. While much of the local narrative gets filtered or softened by legacy media, the Olympic Herald’s reporting has been peeling back layer after layer of what’s really happening inside the Clallam County court system—and it’s not flattering. The pattern that’s emerging is hard to ignore, and frankly, it should concern anyone who still believes justice is applied evenly.

Two recent cases they highlighted tell the story better than any commentary could:

• Aaron Fisher received 90 months—seven and a half years—for the death of 70-year-old Richard Madeo near the Sequim Safeway gas station during last year’s Irrigation Festival.

• Richard Loren Pratt was sentenced to 116 months—nearly ten years—in Grays Harbor County for killing at least five cow elk.

Read that again.

A human life: 7.5 years.
Five elk: nearly a decade.

Draw your own conclusions, but it’s difficult to reconcile those outcomes without asking what, exactly, is being prioritized—and whether the system is delivering proportional justice.

This is precisely why independent journalism matters. When local courtrooms operate largely out of public view, it takes persistent, unfiltered reporting to surface the outcomes that demand scrutiny. If nothing else, these cases should prompt a broader conversation about accountability, consistency, and whether the scales of justice in our region are as balanced as we’re led to believe.

For years, the Jamestown Tribe’s newsletter was public. Now it’s restricted—available only to Tribal citizens who request it. Why the sudden change? After reviewing the latest issue, the answer may be uncomfortable: a steady stream of taxpayer-funded projects, expanding benefits, and business activity that directly competes with local residents—all happening with limited public visibility.

There was a time when anyone in Clallam County could go online and read the Jamestown Tribe’s monthly newsletter. That’s no longer the case. Now, unless you’re a Tribal citizen, you’ll see a message saying the site is “under construction” and be told to call or email to request access.

Transparency, apparently, now comes with conditions.

That might not raise eyebrows—until you actually look at what’s inside.

Public Money, Private Upgrades

One of the centerpiece articles, authored by the Washington State Department of Commerce, reads less like oversight and more like promotion. It opens with a long detour into the symbolism of the western red cedar—climate impacts, cultural references—but never really connects those ideas to anything concrete.

Then it gets to the real point: money.

State and federal grants are being used to upgrade tribal-owned housing—new roofs, insulation, heat pumps, and water systems.

On the surface, that sounds reasonable. Until you look closer at what some of those “housing” units actually are.

At least six of these properties are not basic housing—they’re high-end vacation rentals located on the golf course and marketed through the Tribe’s own resort platform. These are income-generating assets, competing directly with local vacation rentals, hotels, and small landlords throughout Clallam County.

And unlike every other operator in that space, they don’t operate on a level playing field. These properties are not subject to local property taxes, and in many cases, avoid the same lodging taxes and regulatory burdens that everyone else is required to navigate.

So the equation becomes hard to ignore: public dollars are being used to upgrade revenue-generating vacation properties… that then compete against the very taxpayers who funded them.

That’s not just economic development—it’s government-funded competition.

The Grant Pipeline Never Stops

The newsletter makes one thing clear: grant funding is everywhere.

• Nearly $900,000 for housing upgrades alone

• Over $1.3 million for a solar microgrid project

• Additional clean energy and infrastructure funding layered on top

And then there’s the bucket truck—purchased with Department of Energy grant funds.

The justification? It will maintain tribal powerlines and infrastructure.

Fair question: what powerlines? And if it’s a regional asset, why is it owned exclusively by one entity?

The newsletter frames it as generosity—The Tribe will let others use it if needed. But the reality is simpler: state and federal dollars paid for it.

Your money.

Expanding Services for a Shrinking Population

The Tribe continues to expand social and community services—adding new case managers, clinical staff, and program administrators.

At the same time, the newsletter highlights ongoing elder services, food programs, and subsidized support systems available to Tribal citizens:

• Food pantry access up to 400% of federal poverty levels

  

• Elder meal delivery and events

• Case management and employment assistance

• Cultural stipends ($40/hour for participation)

These are real benefits—substantial ones. But they exist alongside a broader county population that is struggling with housing, addiction, and access to basic services.

Two systems. One funded largely by the same taxpayers.

Treaty Rights, Subsidized Access

The newsletter also highlights subsistence cards and treaty-managed harvests—tracking every fish and shellfish taken to maintain allocation shares.

These are long-standing rights—but they come with infrastructure, staffing, and enforcement supported in part by public funding streams.

Again, the question isn’t whether these programs exist—it’s who pays for them, and who benefits.

Carefully Framed Messaging

In a more subtle section, the Tribe advises citizens on how to interact with federal immigration authorities, offering guidance and “Know Your Rights” materials.

It’s framed as safety and awareness—but it also reflects a broader pattern: messaging that emphasizes external threats, internal cohesion, and reliance on tribal systems.

The Railroad Bridge Question

Then there’s the Railroad Bridge.

The Tribe owns it. The total cost to replace it is estimated at $3.1 million. Yet:

• They’ve already received $2.55 million in state funding

• They’ve launched a capital campaign asking for donations

• The shortfall is roughly half a million dollars — the same amount they spend on Christmas lights each year

This is from an organization that routinely generates over $100 million in revenue annually.

At some point, it’s fair to ask:
Why is the public always expected to fill the gap?

Why Hide the Newsletter?

Taken individually, each of these items can be explained away.

Together, they tell a different story:

• Public funding flowing into privately controlled assets

• Business activity competing with local residents

• Expanding benefits unavailable to the general public

• Continued reliance on grants and subsidies

• And now, reduced public visibility into it all

Which brings us back to the original question:

If this is all above board… why make the newsletter harder to access?

Leave a comment

Download the April Jamestown Tribal Newsletter here:

Tribal Newsletter April 2026 Digital

7.27MB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Today’s Tidbit: “None of the White Man’s Business?”

One item in Saturday’s Social Media article sparked a lively comment thread—and it’s worth a closer look.

A comment claimed that what the Jamestown Tribe does is “none of the white man’s business.”

It wasn’t anonymous.

It was posted by Jonathan Arakawa—a youth leader who is already working within local schools, helping shape curriculum and student understanding of tribal sovereignty, civic engagement, and governance. According to his own organization, he has presented to hundreds of middle school students and helped train school staff in these areas.

That’s what makes this notable.

This isn’t some fringe opinion—it’s coming from someone actively involved in educating the next generation, under the banner of “unity” and “social wellness.”

And yet, the message here is exclusionary.

You can’t promote civic engagement on one hand, while telling part of the public that local issues are none of their business on the other.

Especially when those same issues involve public funding, public policy, and economic activity that impacts the entire community.

When Commissioner Mark Ozias responds to concerned citizens, a pattern emerges: blame Washington, D.C., defend current policies, and dismiss the role of local decision-making. But the conditions on the ground in Clallam County tell a different story—one shaped not by distant policymakers, but by years of choices made right here at home.

If you haven’t subscribed to Clallam County Letters, you’re missing some of the most provocative exchanges between concerned citizens and the officials elected to represent them.

When a Clallam County resident recently reached out to the Board of Commissioners, Commissioner Mark Ozias responded with a familiar explanation: homelessness is being driven by rising costs and cuts to the federal safety net.

It’s a convenient answer. It’s also incomplete.

Commissioner Ozias has served in local government for over a decade. The president he references has been in office just over a year. Yet somehow, the responsibility for what we’re seeing on our streets—addiction, disorder, and growing encampments—belongs almost entirely to the federal government.

That doesn’t hold up.

Not every county in America is experiencing the level of overdose deaths and public disorder that Clallam County is. Local policy matters. Local leadership matters. And local outcomes reflect local decisions.

Authority When It’s Convenient

In his response, Ozias also defended Health Officer Dr. Allison Berry, stating:

“Dr. Berry is not a police officer and cannot arrest or forcibly move anyone…”

But that explanation raises an obvious question.

During COVID, Dr. Berry exercised sweeping authority—mandating masks, requiring proof of vaccination for entry into restaurants, and shutting down businesses that did not comply.

She had authority then.

Now, when it comes to addressing public health hazards tied to encampments, open drug use, and environmental degradation, we’re told her authority is limited.

Which is it?

A False Choice — and an Inappropriate One

In another response to a constituent, Ozias wrote:

“If your argument is ‘let them die rather than trying to save their life with Narcan’ I would just say that I do not agree with you, though I certainly know others who share your opinion.”

No one made that argument.

It’s a strawman—and an inappropriate one. Concerned residents are not advocating for death. They’re asking why current policies appear to enable continued addiction without requiring a path to recovery.

That’s not cruelty. That’s concern.

What’s Missing: Personal Responsibility

Commissioner Ozias frames the issue this way:

“It is not harm reduction that is causing people to live on the street and/or to be addicted to drugs. Rather it is the lack of affordable housing and a decayed social safety net that are leaving people without options.”

Housing matters. But this framing leaves out a critical piece: personal responsibility.

People do not become addicted to fentanyl because rent is too high.

Addiction is a behavioral and medical issue. It requires treatment, accountability, and intervention. What we’re seeing instead is a system that often provides services without expectations.

When there are no expectations, behavior doesn’t change.

When Policy Becomes the Problem

This isn’t theoretical. It’s already playing out.

Peninsula Behavioral Health’s North View luxury apartments for the homeless represent a model of permanent supportive housing where drug and alcohol use will be permitted and tolerated. Similar approaches in Seattle offer a preview of what follows.

In Seattle’s Beacon Hill neighborhood, four parks have effectively been overtaken by an open-air drug market. Hundreds of people living in tents. Open use. Dealers operating openly. Residents threatened. Public spaces lost.

One local observer put it plainly:

“This is not a down-and-out homeless camp… This is an open-air drug market. There’s prostitution, theft, dealing, using, property destruction.”

Another described the policy mindset behind it:

“Somewhere in the last decade, Seattle decided that leaving people to rot in public parks was the enlightened approach… That’s what we are calling compassion.”

This isn’t a housing crisis—it’s a drug crisis. And until our leaders are willing to acknowledge that, the current approach won’t reduce suffering; it will continue to concentrate it.

Closer to Home

For many in Clallam County, this already feels familiar.

Drive past Serenity House in Port Angeles, and you’ll see it: open use, visible dealing, makeshift privacy screens just feet from families trying to live normal lives.

One resident described the contrast:

A man playing catch with his son in front of housing units—while just yards away, a drug economy operates in plain sight.

That’s not a housing crisis.

That’s a policy failure.

The Affordability Argument Falls Apart

If unaffordable housing is the root cause, then what have county leaders done to make housing more affordable?

The record suggests the opposite:

• The county commissioners regularly support tax increases

• The commissioners back policies that shift land into tax-exempt trust status

• Through the Washington State Association of Counties, the commissioners lobby for expanded taxing authority without a public vote

Each of these decisions increases the burden on property owners—and drives costs higher.

You cannot cite affordability as the problem while advancing policies that make it worse.

A Dead End

In a recent podcast responding to Commissioner Ozias’ remarks—titled “A Pathetic Deflection”—Clallamity Jen and The Strait Shooter captured the Board of Commissioners’ approach with a line that hits uncomfortably close to home:

“The best place to turn around is a dead end.”

Clallam County has hit that dead end.

We are now 16 years into a 10-year plan to end homelessness. More money is being spent than ever before. Outcomes continue to decline.

At some point, the question isn’t whether we’re trying hard enough.

It’s whether we’re trying the right things at all.

What Comes Next

This is not a problem beyond our control.

The County—through the Board of Health and its Health Officer—has both the authority and the obligation to address conditions that threaten public health and safety.

What’s missing isn’t funding.

It’s a willingness to change course.

Because we cannot fix a problem we refuse to acknowledge.

And until that happens, the gap between what residents are experiencing—and what they’re being told—will only continue to grow.

What to Watch Today

This afternoon at 4:30 p.m., the Port Angeles City Council will hold a special meeting to discuss “Camping and Encampment.”

For residents who have been raising concerns about public safety, open drug use, and the growing impact of encampments, this is an opportunity to pay attention.

Click here for instructions on how to attend, either in person or virtually.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

The City of Sequim is reminding residents to keep their lawns mowed—warning that overgrown grass may be deemed a public nuisance if it obstructs sidewalks, threatens public health or safety, attracts rodents, or diminishes neighborhood character.

Just across from City Hall:

For eight months, Clallam County’s request for a simple conversation about taxes has been met with silence. But when the Jamestown Corporation wants something—letters of support, land transfers, legislative backing—the machinery of local government moves instantly. Emails show not just cooperation, but deference. And now, as the Commissioners prepare to discuss a response to the BIA—possibly for the first time in over a decade—the public is left with a fundamental question: who is really leading Clallam County?

The Double Standard, in Plain Sight

In August, the Clallam County Commissioners sent a letter to the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe.

It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t political. It wasn’t even demanding.

It simply asked for a conversation—specifically, whether the tribal corporation would consider contributing more toward property taxes and lodging taxes that fund county services.

Eight months later?

Nothing.

No response. No meeting. No acknowledgment.

When the County followed up, the reply they received was as revealing as it was dismissive:

“We will let you know if/when we need further conversations.”

That wasn’t a partnership. That was a signal.

But When Jamestown Asks—Everything Moves

Contrast that silence with what happens when the Jamestown Corporation wants something from the County.

The difference is immediate—and documented.

Internal emails show the Jamestown Corporation actively requesting a letter of support for federal legislation that would transfer the Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges into tribal trust.

Not just requesting.

Providing the letter.

Drafted. Structured. Ready for signature.

“I’m attaching a draft letter of support…”

From there, the process becomes almost automatic:

• The County schedules a work session around Jamestown’s availability

• Then Jamestown coordinates the timing

• Presentations are arranged to “educate” commissioners

• The draft letter—written externally—is positioned to go out under the Commissioners’ names

All before any meaningful public discussion.

Sequim Saw It First

This isn’t isolated.

The same playbook was used with the Sequim City Council.

As previously reported, a “letter of support” considered by Sequim wasn’t truly authored by the City—it was provided to them.

Officials didn’t write it.

But they’re considering adopting it.

And now, the same pattern is playing out at the County level.

Different jurisdiction. Same script.

Pushy When It Matters, Silent When It Doesn’t

The contrast is hard to ignore:

• When the County asks for a conversation → silence

• When the County follows up → deflection

• When Jamestown wants support → immediate coordination

• When legislation is involved → draft letters provided for signature

This isn’t just influence.

It’s asymmetry.

And it raises a deeper question about governance: is this a partnership—or a one-way expectation?

And What Happens When Citizens Speak Up?

There’s another layer to this dynamic—and it involves the public.

When engaged citizens raise concerns about land transfers, taxation, or the growing influence of the Jamestown Corporation, they aren’t met with meaningful dialogue. Too often, they’re dismissed—not just by tribal leadership, but by their own elected officials.

Jamestown Corporation CEO Ron Allen has characterized critics as “whiners and complainers” who need to be “set straight.”

Think about that.

Residents asking legitimate questions about public land, tax fairness, and local governance—reduced to a label.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Many citizens who attempt to engage with the Clallam County Board of Commissioners are being dismissed, ignored, or even belittled during public meetings and correspondence. Questions go unanswered. Concerns are minimized. Participation is tolerated—but rarely respected.

At the same time:

• The County’s own request for a conversation is ignored

• Public concerns are acknowledged privately, but not acted on publicly

• Letters of support move forward without meaningful public input

So where, exactly, is the space for the public?

Because it’s becoming increasingly clear:

If you’re an elected official aligned with Jamestown, your voice is elevated.

If you’re a citizen asking questions, your voice is diminished.

Weak Leadership Creates Strong Influence

There’s a common thread connecting the Clallam County Board of Commissioners and the Sequim City Council:

Weak leadership.

Because strong leadership asks questions.

Strong leadership negotiates.

Strong leadership doesn’t sign letters it didn’t write.

The Jamestown Corporation has proven effective at identifying and supporting candidates who align with their priorities:

• Financial backing in key campaigns

• Promotion of groups like the Sequim Good Governance League

• Relationships that translate into access—and outcomes

That’s not accidental.

That’s strategy.

What Happens Next Matters

Today’s work session may be one of the most important in years.

On the agenda:

• Discussion of a response to the Bureau of Indian Affairs regarding land transfer

• Discussion of transferring the Dungeness and Protection Island Wildlife Refuges

This could be the first time in over a decade that Clallam County formally responds to a federal trust land action.

The public can attend:

• In person

• Virtually

But there’s a catch: No public comment.

Which means the only voices in the room will be the ones already at the table.

The Real Question

This isn’t about being “for” or “against” the Jameston Tribe or Corporation.

It’s about balance.

It’s about accountability.

It’s about whether Clallam County represents its residents—or defers to whoever asks most effectively.

Because right now, the pattern is clear:

When the County asks, it waits.

When the Jamestown Corporation asks, it acts.

And that’s not governance.

That’s compliance.

Sign the Petition

Today’s Tidbit

In yesterday’s article, County Commissioner candidate Jake Seegers highlighted a troubling detail: a voucher distributed through the County’s Harm Reduction Center that allows recipients to take a free shower at the Shore Aquatic Center.

At the same time, according to the Clallam County Sheriff’s Office sex offender registry, there are currently 27 registered sex offenders in Port Angeles—more than a third of them listed as transient.

The Shore Aquatic Center isn’t just another facility—it’s where families bring their children. It’s where kids use locker rooms, often out of direct sight of parents, with the expectation that the environment is safe.

Residents need to be aware of this when they drop off their grandkids at the pool—or when their kids head into a locker room, and they tell them they’ll meet them in a few minutes, trusting that nothing will go wrong.

Leave a comment

In this week’s Sundays With Seegers, County Commissioner candidate Jake Seegers examines a brutal 30-minute assault on the Laurel Street stairs—an incident that unfolded in the downtown core without intervention. Jake connects the violence to a broader pattern: policies that tolerate instability, avoid enforcement, and increasingly normalize outdoor living. The question is no longer whether it’s working—but whether anyone will change course.

Assault on a Landing

At 5:02 a.m., February 22, on the stairway behind the downtown Port Angeles fountain, a homeless man—Jake Veach—sat beside his camp, recently established on the first landing from the top.

What followed was not a brief altercation or a momentary loss of control. According to the police report, the violence stretched over roughly thirty minutes—an extended, escalating assault carried out in plain view on public property, just below a neighborhood of families.

During that time, according to the police report, Mr. Veach was repeatedly kicked, stomped on, and struck by the suspect, Isoble Snow.

The report makes clear that he attempted to disengage, at times sitting back down and trying to avoid further conflict with Snow. But the assaults continued—again and again—over a sustained period that should give anyone pause.

Thirty minutes.

That detail matters. It speaks not only to the brutality of the attack, but to the absence of interruption—no effective intervention, no meaningful disruption, no system stepping in before things escalated further. All of it captured on camera. All of it unfolding on a public pedestrian connection between a residential neighborhood and the downtown core.

At approximately 5:33 AM, the violence intensified. The report indicates that the suspect, Isobel Snow, stabbed Mr. Veach in the left tricep multiple times. When he attempted to grab her hand—possibly to disarm her—his right hand was lacerated.

Even after the stabbing, the incident did not immediately end. Mr. Veach collapsed, clutching his arm. The suspect moved away, then re-engaged. The confrontation continued before eventually de-escalating into conversation—and even an embrace.

At 5:51 AM, the incident was reported. Responding officers arrived to find both individuals next to a large pool of blood on the stair landing.

According to officers, Mr. Veach claimed his injuries were self-inflicted or the result of “falling on scissors.” Ms. Snow stated she arrived to find him bleeding and called for help.

Historical Context

Disclaimer: The following section reflects personal observations and conversations, as well as accounts from individuals living in the area. It is not part of the official police report and has not been independently verified.

I met Jake in mid-February. His camp, at the time, was feet from Tumwater Creek.

He collected rocks. I happened to have a small stone in my pocket from the beach and offered it to him. He accepted it with appreciation. We talked for about fifteen minutes.

Jake told me he came from Idaho, in part because Washington offers more services—specifically, clean drug use supplies. He said he had been living along Tumwater Creek for two to three years.

He was candid about his drug use:

“Everybody has to use out here. If you’re homeless, you have to.”

He appreciated the food, clothing, and supplies available through local programs, including the County’s Harm Reduction Health Clinic. But he also expressed frustration—suggesting, for example, that syringe distribution should require exchanges.

More importantly, he expressed a desire to get out.

He wanted inpatient treatment. Stability. A way forward.

When asked what would happen if enforcement made outdoor living no longer an option, he said he would go to Serenity House temporarily—and then he would “leave town.”

A Bit Downstream

Later that month, the contents of an abandoned camp spilled down the bank of Tumwater Creek—scattering solid waste across Port of Port Angeles–owned property just north of Jake’s camp.

According to a reliable eyewitness, the camp had previously been occupied by Isobel Snow.

Signs of drug use were just steps away.

The same source also identified Snow’s previous encampment, which had burned to the ground.

Prior to the incident on the stairs, Mr. Veach and Ms. Snow reportedly had a history that included a domestic violence no-contact order.

The assault on the Laurel Street stairs was captured on camera. But it raises a larger question: how much violence and instability goes unseen—hidden by dense brush, distance, and the constant rush of Tumwater Creek?

If this is what unfolds in a visible, monitored location, what is happening in the places we don’t see?

When Advocacy Becomes Enablement

At the March 17th meeting of the City of Port Angeles City Council, nearly an hour of public comment was delivered. A clear pattern emerged.

Speaker after speaker urged the city to allow outdoor camping to continue—many calling for fewer restrictions, or a hands-off approach so long as camps appeared orderly.

It did not feel spontaneous. The repetition in language and framing suggested coordination, with many speakers advancing nearly identical ideas.

One commenter urged the city to establish areas where unhoused individuals could “exist safely… with sanitation… and protection from harassment.” Another warned that “attempts to prohibit camping and encampments are a clear attack on homeless populations.”

Others advocated for designated outdoor communities “where these people can reside in safe, secure… communities,” while one speaker cautioned that banning camping “would be devastating… there’s nowhere else to go.”

Perhaps most telling was the suggestion that, “If a campsite is clean and the people aren’t harassing anyone, leave it.”

Taken together, the message was consistent: outdoor living should be preserved and protected.

But what happened on the Laurel Street stairs raises a difficult question—what does that look like in practice?

When Leaders Can’t Say “No”

Maybe the stabbing at Laurel Street could have been avoided.

Instead, individuals with known instability—living outside despite available shelter capacity—are enabled by a system that provides resources, access, and freedom without consistent expectations or enforcement.

This is not an isolated incident—it is a glimpse into a lawless society encouraged to grow at the expense of the lawful.

The City of Port Angeles has repeatedly failed to enforce existing trespass laws or meaningfully address unauthorized encampments.

The Clallam County Board of Health and Health Officer Allison Berry have refused to comply with their lawful duty to “prevent, control or abate nuisances which are detrimental to public health,” when conditions deteriorate on public or private land.

Meanwhile, harm reduction efforts have expanded without sufficient accountability for outcomes. Supplies are distributed widely, and in many cases, are discarded unused, contributing to growing waste in public spaces and sensitive environments.

Residents have taken notice. The Lincoln Street Safeway is now commonly referred to by some as the “UnSafeway,” reflecting concerns about open drug use and dealing.

Panhandling continues, often unaddressed, contributing to a steady flow of cash into the drug trade.

Basic services are widely available—but many are concentrated in the same areas where drug activity is prevalent.

Free food is abundant. WSU Extension keeps an active document of local food resources here.

Showers are available at Serenity House, Salvation Army, The Answer for Youth (TAFY), and now in the same locker rooms utilized by children and families at the taxpayer-funded William Shore Memorial Pool. Transients are invited to shower Monday through Friday between 5:30 am and 10:30 am.

TAFY provides free tents and camping gear and pays for propane tank refills at a nearby gas station—fuel that is often used for unventilated heating sources inside tents.

City, Port, and County-owned property has effectively become a largely unregulated option for outdoor camping, substance abuse, and illegal dumping.

Clallam Transit connects all of these services with convenience, free of charge.

The map below is not exhaustive, but it illustrates the network of services, resources, and lack of enforcement that made the Laurel Street Stairs a prime location for this incident.

The Officer Who Said “No”

In contrast, one moment in the report stands out.

When Ms. Snow asked to smoke a used cigarette from an ashtray while in custody, the arresting officer refused.

He followed protocol. He held the line.

It’s a small detail—but a telling one.

Because, in a system where nearly every request is accommodated, the first “no” can trigger instability. According to the report, Ms. Snow reacted by repeatedly striking her head against the divider in the patrol car.

Like a spoiled child who is granted their every request, when finally told “no,” Ms. Snow melted down into a tantrum.

That reaction is not random. It reflects a broader pattern—one shaped by a system that too often avoids setting limits.

Private Landowners Caught in the Middle

Not all stakeholders have accepted this trajectory.

The Port of Port Angeles has taken active steps to address trespassing, waste, and environmental damage on its property.

During a February 24, 2026 Port Commission meeting, Port Security Lead Jack Lowell outlined efforts to address these issues, including active vegetation management to improve visibility and deter camping, the placement of “No Trespassing” signage across Port property, increased security patrols, and a $70,000 fence installation along 18th Street near the airport, across from Serenity House.

Security staff also make near-nightly contact with campers, asking them to move along—some comply, while others stubbornly refuse.

Port staff praised collaborative efforts with local clean-up non-profit 4PA and said that:

“They, more often than not, come up with solutions for us for some of the individuals who do need to be housed.”

Port staff did not report the same level of success when working with the City of Port Angeles and Clallam County.

They cited nearly weekly complaints to the Port Angeles Police Department requesting enforcement, along with stalled coordination efforts involving the City Council, PAPD, the city attorney’s office, and code enforcement. Staff noted that enforcement is often deferred, with trespass notices rarely issued. Instead, complaints are typically routed to code enforcement the following day.

Port Commissioner Connie Beauvais described conditions along Tumwater Creek bluntly:

“It’s starting to look like its own urban area.”

Port Commissioner Colleen McAleer shared a personal experience that underscores growing safety concerns:

“There’s also the issue that sometimes these people are desperate and trying to obtain funds for their drug habits. I work downtown and I’ve been followed to my car at night. Someone tried to get into my car after I got in. They are scary situations. It’s all part of downtown Port Angeles, and I see and deal with it at least weekly.”

Port CEO Paul Jarkiewicz questioned whether the current location of the County’s Harm Reduction Health Center is appropriate:

“Maybe we take that offering of service that is centrally located in the central business district and move it to a location better suited to serving that need. The Harm Reduction Center is literally right behind the Port office, and what we see—from early morning to late evening—is constant movement of people coming to and from it. I’m not sure it’s properly located.”

Despite ongoing efforts by Port security staff, Port-owned land continues to experience persistent trespass, encampments, and drug use, along with the accumulation of solid and human waste and debris originating from nearby activity.

Fires and propane tank explosions have also occurred on Port property.

As Mr. Lowell summarized:

“Our hands are kind of tied until the city gets a little stricter on their enforcement.”

The result is predictable—continued encampments, ongoing environmental damage, and increasing safety concerns.

This week, during a forum hosted by the Port Angeles Business Association, City Council member Mark Hodgson described the Port of Port Angeles as a critical partner in the city’s economic future.

So why isn’t the City Council protecting that partner’s property rights?

A Symptom of Something Larger

The Laurel Street assault is not an isolated event. It is a signal.

For years, policy has focused on inputs—services delivered, supplies distributed, contacts made. But those metrics do not capture what people experience daily: whether conditions are improving, whether behavior is stabilizing, and whether public spaces are becoming safer.

In this case, the outcome was prolonged violence between two individuals in crisis, in a public place, with no effective intervention until after serious harm had occurred.

That is not harm reduction.

It is harm management.

And too often, it comes too late.

Both individuals needed more than tolerance. They needed structure, accountability, and a pathway to recovery. Without those guardrails, instability compounds—and incidents like this become more likely.

Policies that minimize friction can, over time, normalize dysfunction. And when that happens, the consequences extend beyond those directly involved.

They show up in our parks.

Along our waterways.

And on the stairways that connect our neighborhoods.

Leaders must begin to measure success not by activity, but by outcomes—by whether people are moving toward sobriety, stability, and self-sufficiency, and whether the broader community is safer as a result.

Because what happened on the Laurel Street stairs wasn’t just an incident.

It was a warning.

And it’s one we shouldn’t ignore.

Compassion should not come at the expense of public safety.

Leave a comment

Editor’s Note: CC Watchdog editor Jeff Tozzer also serves as campaign manager for Jake Seegers during his run for Clallam County Commissioner, District 3. Learn more at www.JakeSeegers.com.

The Jamestown Corporation calls its Comprehensive Plan a “road map.” But when you follow that map closely, it doesn’t just outline growth—it outlines a deliberate, decades-long strategy to acquire land, expand sovereignty, and shape the future of Clallam and Jefferson Counties. The question is no longer whether this is happening. It’s whether the public fully understands it—and whether anyone is asking where it ends.

The Plan Is Not New—It’s Been in Motion Since 1985

The Tribe’s Comprehensive Plan didn’t appear overnight. It began in 1985 and was formally updated in 2016. From the beginning, the objective has been clear:

Rebuild the Tribe’s land base and expand economic development.

What started as roughly 10 acres in Blyn in 1986 has already grown into more than 1,700 acres.

And importantly, the plan explicitly states:

“At some time in the future, all of this property will likely be in reservation/trust status.”

That single sentence carries significant implications. Trust land is not subject to local or state jurisdiction—meaning zoning, taxation, and regulatory authority shift away from Clallam County and the State of Washington.

A 363-Square-Mile Target Area

One of the most revealing elements of the plan is the Tribal Land Consolidation Area.

According to the Tribe’s own document:

• Spans 32 miles east-to-west

• Covers 36 miles north-to-south

• Encompasses approximately 363 square miles

This is not a small footprint. It stretches across large portions of Clallam and Jefferson Counties, identifying where the Tribe intends to:

• Acquire land

• Develop economically

• Convert properties into trust status

This is not opportunistic growth—it is geographically defined expansion.

“Reacquire Homelands”: Cultural Restoration or Strategic Expansion?

The plan frequently references:

• “Reestablishing homelands”

• “Reacquiring lands”

• “Usual and accustomed areas” tied to the 1855 Point No Point Treaty

These phrases are grounded in history—but they are also being operationalized into modern land acquisition policy.

The Tribe’s defined “usual and accustomed” areas include:

• Strait of Juan de Fuca

• San Juan Islands

• Admiralty Inlet

• Hood Canal

That’s not just symbolic geography—it’s tied to legal rights to fish, hunt, and gather, and increasingly, to influence over environmental and land-use policy.

Infrastructure That Follows Development—Or Leads It?

One of the more striking sections involves transportation:

“Safety improvements on [US Highway 101] should be timed with Tribal land development.”

This raises a critical question for local residents:

Are infrastructure projects—like highway redesigns, access changes, or even roundabouts—being planned in coordination with Tribal development goals?

The plan confirms that:

• The Tribe has already secured funding for infrastructure projects

• Additional improvements are tied directly to future development

At a minimum, this suggests alignment between transportation planning and Tribal economic expansion. Whether that includes specific projects like Highway 101 roundabouts is not explicitly stated—but the framework for coordination is clearly there.

Economic Strategy: Competing as a Sovereign Entity

The Tribe identifies its “comparative advantages” as a sovereign nation and targets key industries:

• Tourism

• Healthcare and medical services

• High-tech business

• Marine services

• Construction

This is not just community development—it is regional economic competition, with unique advantages:

• Different regulatory environment

• Access to federal funding streams

• Ability to convert land into trust status

• Ability to shelter businesses from taxes that competitors must pay

The plan openly acknowledges the need to:

Expand governmental authority and request increased federal funding.

The Self-Sufficiency Paradox

Perhaps the most important—and least discussed—section is the Tribe’s stated goal of:

• Self-sufficiency

• Self-reliance

• Reduced dependence on federal funding

At face value, that sounds reasonable.

But elsewhere, the plan states:

The Tribe will continue working with Congress to request increased funding.

So which is it?

• A transition away from federal support?

• Or an expansion of funding alongside an expansion of authority?

And more importantly:

When will that transition to “self-reliance” actually happen?

Accountability Without Access

The plan emphasizes measurable outcomes:

“Every Tribal program… should have some expected result… documented and compared with expected results.”

That sounds like accountability.

But for the general public:

• These results are not readily accessible

• Tribal governance operates outside many state transparency laws

• Local residents have limited visibility into outcomes tied to regional impacts

So while the framework for accountability exists internally, external oversight is minimal to nonexistent.

The County’s Role: Acknowledged—but Limited

The plan makes an important admission:

“Decisions made by Clallam County or the State… will have an impact on our ability to utilize those lands.”

In other words, local policy still matters—for now.

But as land transitions into trust status, that influence diminishes.

A Bigger Question: Who Is This Plan For?

There’s no question the Comprehensive Plan is well-structured, strategic, and long-term in vision.

But it raises a fundamental issue:

• Is this plan designed primarily for Tribal benefit and sovereignty expansion?

• Or does it equally consider the long-term interests of the broader public living in the same region?

Because as land moves into trust status:

• It exits local tax rolls

• It leaves local regulatory control

• It shifts governance away from elected county officials

And yet, its impacts—on infrastructure, housing, environment, and economy—remain shared.

Final Thought

The Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe has been clear:

“The Comprehensive Plan is the Tribe’s road map.”

The roadmap is not hidden. It’s public.

Read the Jamestown Comprehensive Plan

The real issue is whether local residents, elected officials, and policymakers are reading it closely—and asking the hard questions about where it leads.

Because once you understand the scope—363 square miles, long-term acquisition, and eventual trust conversion—this stops looking like incremental growth.

It starts looking like a generational strategy.

And strategies like that don’t unfold by accident.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

The Jamestown Corporation is ramping up efforts to take control of the Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges, transferring them out of public ownership and into tribal control.

According to the Sequim Gazette, Protection Island’s history “starts and ends with the S’Klallam people.” That claim, however, overlooks documented history indicating the presence of the Chemakum Tribe prior to the S’Klallam.

Tribal officials say “appropriate public access” will continue. But that raises a simple question: Who decides what “appropriate” means? The same access? Reduced access? Conditional access?

Jamestown Corporation CEO Ron Allen framed the effort as transparent, noting outreach to city and county officials for letters of support. He also acknowledged public skepticism in a Sequim Gazette article yesterday:

“Some folks just don’t like Jamestown… People just don’t understand why the properties are important to us.”

But these lands are not just tribal history—they’ve been part of the American public trust for over a century, since designation under Woodrow Wilson.

According to Allen, the approximately 900 acres include historically significant areas, but they are also federally protected wildlife refuges. And potential future use raises additional concerns. Allen indicated that, if permitted, an oyster operation could be introduced—public records show the oysters will be a non-native species for commercial viability.

Meanwhile, a lawsuit remains pending between Protect the Peninsula’s Future and the Department of the Interior over aquaculture activity near the Dungeness refuge.

And there are still unresolved historical questions. Claims of permanent tribal settlements on the Dungeness Spit and Protection Island are debated, in part due to the lack of a reliable freshwater source. However, the area on the Spit is tied to the historical Dungeness Massacre, where the Jamestown Tribe slaughtered 17 Tsimshian Indians who were resting during a long canoe journey.

All of this leads to a larger issue:

This isn’t just about history.
It’s about control—of land, access, and future use.

And once public land is transferred out of the public domain, there’s no easy way to get it back.

Sign the Petition

In a bold new step beyond harm reduction, Clallam County unveils a revolutionary program aimed at eliminating life’s greatest injustice: doing the dishes. One survivor shares her story of childhood trauma—and the battery-powered bottle opener that saved her life.

She agreed to meet because she wanted her story told.

She sat across from me in a dim apartment, sleeves pulled down tight despite the warm afternoon. Her voice trembled as she began.

“It started when I was about seven,” she said quietly. “Thanksgiving. Everyone else was watching football… and I was alone in the kitchen.”

She paused.

“My uncle came in.”

I leaned forward.

“He showed me what to do. How to hold things. How to scrub. And before I knew it…” she swallowed hard, “…I was rinsing.”

I exhaled slowly.

“It didn’t stop there,” she continued. “Once my sister was old enough, they brought her in too. She didn’t resist as much. Then it was everyone and all the time. Extended family. Holidays. Weekends. Any time there were dishes… we were expected to handle it.”

She slowly rolled up her sleeves.

The damage was unmistakable.

Dry skin.

Cracked knuckles.

Permanent wrinkles.

She had dishpan hands.

“Don’t Forget to Presoak”

“My mother was the worst,” she said flatly.

“We’re estranged now.”

She described years of verbal abuse.

“She’d say things like ‘Don’t forget to presoak’… or ‘Make sure you wipe the crystal before it spots.’”

She shook her head.

“I was just a child.”

She said the abuse was calculated.

“I honestly believe my parents had kids just so they wouldn’t have to do the dishes themselves.”

I asked her why she thought that.

She stared at me.

“Because of what they named us.”

A long pause.

“My sister is Joy.”

Another pause.

“I’m Dawn.”

I sat back.

“…like the dish soap?”

She nodded.

“They’d say things like, ‘You have such a bubbly personality,’ or ‘Your mind is like a sponge.’”

She clenched her fists.

“It wasn’t encouragement. It was conditioning.”

A Lifetime of Scars

Dawn says she worked hard to escape her family. It was all she could think about growing up. She moved out at 32 and never looked back.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore. Every plate… every fork… it was like reliving the trauma.”

Her sister Joy had left earlier.

“Joy’s doing… fine,” Dawn admitted reluctantly. “She’s a regional manager now, owns two homes, runs marathons… but emotionally? Completely unavailable. You don’t go through something like that and come out normal.”

The Dishwasher Theory of Crime

Dawn believes the issue runs deeper than most people realize.

“Do you know who didn’t have a dishwasher?” she asked suddenly.

I braced myself.

“Ted Bundy.”

I blinked.

“He had to wash his own dishes,” she continued. “You think that didn’t contribute? Imagine standing there, scrubbing baked-on lasagna… day after day…”

She leaned in.

“And then being expected to function in society.”

I nodded cautiously.

“When they caught him, I guarantee there was still cheese stuck to that knife.”

A Turning Point

Dawn says everything changed when she discovered a new county program.

“I met a woman named Windy Grift that runs a behavioral health NGO,” she said. “She told me about a place that could help.”

“The Harm Reduction Center?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“No. Next door to that.”

She reached into a bag stamped with the county logo.

“The Burden Reduction Center.”

She began unloading items onto the table.

“A precision cheese slicer,” she said proudly. “Uniform cuts. No more uneven sandwiches.”

Next: a motorized bottle opener.

“I saw one of these in SkyMall once. I cried.”

Then: a small plastic spray bottle with a fan attached.

“It mists and cools,” she explained. “And when the battery dies, you just throw it on the ground and get another one.”

Breaking the Cycle

A door creaked open down the hallway.

“That’s my son getting up,” she said.

It was 2:00 PM.

A lanky teenage boy shuffled out.

“Come say hi,” Dawn called.

He approached.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Kenmore.”

“I made a promise,” Dawn said. “That boy will never wash a dish in his life.”

She handed him a lighter, an ashtray, and an extended cigarette holder.

“Don’t smoke,” she told him. “But if you do, do it safely.”

Kenmore nodded and left for the alley behind Safeway.

A Life Rebuilt

Dawn stood and opened the curtains.

Sunlight flooded the room, revealing a stunning panoramic view of Port Angeles Harbor.

“I still can’t believe I got into North View,” she said. “Top floor. Harbor view. Dishwasher included.”

She smiled.

“My application was a shoo-in. I checked the box for ‘Raised Without Dishwasher.’”

One Last Lesson

As I prepared to leave, I carried my empty glass to the kitchen.

“Just put it in the dishwasher,” she said.

I opened it.

“But… this is the only thing in here.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

She winked.

Then gently closed the dishwasher and started the cycle.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

This isn’t an April Fool’s joke… but it should be.

Washington State Ferries is raising fares again.

After implementing a roughly 3% increase on October 1, 2025, another ~3% increase is scheduled to take effect May 1, 2026. For riders, that means paying more for a system that continues to struggle with reliability, staffing, and service consistency.

At the same time, the agency is expanding its payroll.

WSF is currently hiring a “Tribal Liaison” with a salary range of $91,400 to $122,976 annually. According to the job description, the position is intended to “build and sustain meaningful government-to-government relationships with Puget Sound Tribes,” ensure ferry operations respect treaty rights and cultural resources, and incorporate Tribal perspectives into planning and projects.

The role emphasizes coordination, collaboration, and long-term relationship building.

All of which raises a straightforward question for ferry riders:

As costs continue to rise, how much of the system’s limited resources are being directed toward improving service—and how much is being directed elsewhere?

As Clallam County taxpayers pick up the tab for land moving into trust, a powerful narrative of “homeland restoration” is being used—while a buried history of displacement, violence, and a people nearly wiped out is largely ignored.

Seven properties. Thousands in lost tax revenue. And a decade of silence.

That’s where things stand in Clallam County today.

Recently, seven parcels in Blyn and one near the Cedars at Dungeness Golf Course were transferred into federal trust for the Jamestown corporate entity:

• 285 Chicken Coop Road

• 193 Zaccardo Road

• 387 Zaccardo Road

• 383 Zaccardo Road

• 65 Nello Place

• 1743 Old Blyn Highway

• Another property on Old Blyn Highway

With those transfers, approximately $25,000 in annual property taxes disappears from the local tax base—funding that would otherwise support schools, fire districts, hospitals, veterans services, and essential government operations.

That burden doesn’t vanish.

It shifts.

The Next Transfer—and the Same Silence

Last week, the Bureau of Indian Affairs notified Clallam County that 9.22 acres off Silberhorn Road in Sequim had been approved for land-into-trust acquisition.

The justification:

“The acquisition furthers tribal interests by facilitating Tribal self-determination and reestablishment of the Tribe’s homelands.”

But buried in that same notice is something just as important:

• The county was notified of the application nearly a year ago

• The county’s response was recorded as “absent”

Not opposed.
Not supportive.
Not even neutral.

Absent.

For over a decade, federal agencies have asked Clallam County to comment on these transfers—on tax impacts, land use, and long-term consequences. And for over ten years, the county has refused to respond.

In practice, silence becomes consent.

“We Do Not Have a Role?”

A week ago, Commissioner Mike French offered two explanations that deserve closer scrutiny.

First, he suggested that concerns raised about land transfers do not reflect the broader public. He stated that the opinions expressed at public meetings requesting that the commissioners respond to the BIA “do not align” with what he hears from a majority of his constituents regarding how he should interact with tribes.

Second, he made a more sweeping claim about the county’s responsibility:

“We do not have a role,” he said, arguing that because the federal government enters into treaties with tribes, counties have no authority in these matters and that this is “very clear” in the Constitution.

That would be a convenient explanation—if it were true.

It isn’t.

Because the federal government itself tells a different story.

The Bureau of Indian Affairs doesn’t send letters for show. Those notices are part of the official process and are specifically intended to gather local government input on taxation, land use, and community impacts.

If counties truly had no role, those letters would not exist.

But they do.

Which brings this back to the real issue:

Not whether the county has a role — but whether county leadership is choosing not to use it.

The Math Is Not Debatable

At a recent presentation to the Clallam County Democrats, County Administrator Todd Mielke explained it clearly:

“If anyone is exempt from paying taxes, that doesn’t mean the amount collected is less… that amount gets shifted to others.”

This is not political opinion. It is how property tax systems function.

When land moves into trust:

• It no longer pays property tax

• The levy remains

• The remaining taxpayers make up the difference

Fewer contributors. Higher burden.

In a county already struggling with affordability, that matters.

The Narrative Driving These Transfers

Every one of these transfers is justified with the same language:

• “ancestral lands”

• “traditional territory”

• “time immemorial”

• “restoring homelands”

The Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe’s history is described as being “faced with the threat of forced relocation by European colonizers” and speaks of returning to its ancestral lands.

It is a powerful narrative.

But it is not the whole story.

What the Map Doesn’t Show

A Natural History map, published by Doubleday, shows “probable locations of Indian tribes north of Mexico around 1500 A.D.”

That map is important.

Because what it doesn’t show is just as telling as what it does.

It identifies groups like:

• Makah

• Chimakuan

But it does not clearly identify the modern S’Klallam tribes or bands—Elwha, Jamestown, or Port Gamble—as distinct entities in the way they are framed today.

That alone should raise a question:

If modern claims rely on “time immemorial” presence in specific locations, why do historical and anthropological records show a far more fluid and shifting reality?

The Chemakum: A People Nearly Wiped Out

According to the Chemakum’s own history—and supported by Quileute accounts—the north Olympic Peninsula was once occupied by Chimakuan-speaking peoples, including both the Chemakum and Quileute.

They were not newcomers.

They were not temporary.

They were there.

Their own account states that the Makah moved down from Vancouver Island and the S’Klallam moved into the region from the north, gradually pushing Chimakuan peoples eastward into the Port Townsend and Chimacum areas.

That is not coexistence.

That is displacement.

And it did not end there.

The Attack That Ended a People

One of the most documented events in this history is the 1847 coordinated attack on the Chemakum.

Historian David Buerge describes how S’Klallam and Suquamish forces joined together with a specific goal: to destroy the Chemakum.

The account is direct:

• Raiders arrived under cover of darkness

• They hid and waited

• When families emerged, they were shot

• The village rushed to defend itself

• The attackers entered

Then came the end:

• Chemakum men were killed

• Women and children were taken as slaves

• The village was burned

What remained was described as the smoking ruins of the last Chemakum stronghold.

The only survivors were those who happened to be away at the time.

That is not a minor historical footnote.

That is the destruction of a people.

Genocide—A Word That Fits the Record

This is what followed.

• Survivors were scattered

• Many were enslaved

• Others were absorbed into neighboring tribes

• Federal agents later reclassified remaining Chemakum as S’Klallam

• Their identity as a distinct people effectively disappeared

Their territory?

Awarded decades later to the S’Klallam by the Indian Claims Commission—on the basis that the Chemakum had “abandoned” it.

Abandoned?

After being attacked, enslaved, and erased?

If genocide includes:

• killing

• forced dispersal

• enslavement

• cultural erasure

Then the Chemakum story fits that definition far more closely than most are willing to acknowledge.

And yet, in modern conversations about “historical injustice,” the Chemakum are almost never mentioned.

The Quileute Connection

The Quileute Tribe—the closest linguistic and cultural relatives of the Chemakum—preserve a parallel account.

Their history describes the Chimakuan people as kin, separated long ago, and recounts that the Chemakum were ultimately wiped out, leaving the Quileute without their closest relatives.

This is not an outsider’s claim.

It is part of the historical memory of a living tribe.

Selective History, Real Consequences

Today, land transfers are justified using simplified language:

• “restoration”

• “homelands”

• “ancestral territory”

But those terms omit key realities:

• Tribal territories shifted over time

• Migration occurred

• Warfare reshaped the region

• Entire groups were destroyed

Ignoring that history does not make it irrelevant.

It makes the public conversation incomplete.

Meanwhile, Back in the Present

While this narrative is being used to justify land transfers:

• Property is leaving the tax rolls

• The burden on remaining taxpayers increases

• Local governments lose revenue

• And elected officials remain silent

For more than two years, residents have asked commissioners to do something simple:

Respond to the BIA. Document the impact. Represent the public.

Instead, the record shows:

Nothing.

The Real Question

This is not about denying tribal history.

It is about acknowledging all of it.

It is not about opposing sovereignty.

It is about demanding accountability from local leadership.

And it is not about rewriting the past.

It is about refusing to accept a version of history that is selectively told to justify present-day decisions with real financial consequences.

The Bottom Line

The story of this land is not simple.

It is not clean.

And it is not one-sided.

Before federal policies, before treaties, before modern politics—this land was shaped by conflict, displacement, and, in the case of the Chemakum, the near destruction of an entire people.

Today, land is being transferred in the name of justice.

But justice requires honesty.

And right now, Clallam County is getting only part of the story.

While land changes hands…
while taxes shift…
while history is simplified…

Your elected officials remain exactly where the federal record says they are:

Absent.

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

What important work is the Clallam Conservation District doing to represent the public interest—especially now that county commissioners have agreed to direct $2 million in taxpayer funding to the CCD over the next decade through the $5 parcel fee (a fee not paid on parcels held in tribal trust)?

So far, one example stands out.

The CCD has submitted a letter of support to the Washington State Department of Ecology backing a project to “identify an alternative and sustainable irrigation water supply for Cedars @ Dungeness Golf Course” owned by the Jamestown Corporation.

According to the letter, that includes investigating deep groundwater sources and recycled water options.

Translation: the CCD is supporting a proposal for the Jamestown Corporation to drill a deep well to irrigate its award-winning golf course—located within the Dungeness Water Rule area, where water access and usage are already tightly constrained for others.

At a minimum, that raises a fair question:

Is this what taxpayers were told they were funding?

A seemingly minor issue—commissioners placing stickers on taxpayer-funded laptops—opens a window into a broader culture of inconsistency, dismissiveness, and unequal treatment inside Clallam County government. What may look trivial at first glance points to something more serious: a growing divide between those who make the rules and those expected to follow them.

In the podcast: Highlights from last week’s Commissioners’ Forum.

“I think it was just a fun thing that I did.”

That was Commissioner Mike French’s response to a constituent during last Tuesday’s “Commissioner Forum.”

The question itself was straightforward:

The laptops used by commissioners are county property, purchased with taxpayer funds for official business. Some commissioners have placed stickers on these laptops, including political ones, while keeping their own personal items—like coffee mugs—plain. Can you explain why you believe it is appropriate for elected officials to place personal or political stickers on county-owned property that does not belong to them?

Instead of engaging seriously, the response reduced the issue to “fun.”

Commissioner Mark Ozias offered a similar dismissal:

“One thing I can say about stickers is that they’re removable… Elected officials do not give up their freedom of speech… it’s been a common expression of fun.”

When asked whether that same “fun” could extend to a public commenter placing removable stickers on the podium or dais, Commissioner Ozias replied:

“I think that’s a ridiculous question.”

This, notably, from a commissioner who once publicly encouraged citizens to ask questions and insisted, “There is no such thing as a stupid question.”

This Isn’t About Stickers

On its face, this may seem trivial. It’s not.

It’s about standards, consistency, and respect for public property.

The laptops in question are not personal belongings—they are county-issued equipment paid for by taxpayers. Under Clallam County Policy 420, technology resources are intended for official use. Personal use is limited. Political use is prohibited.

And while the policy may not explicitly say “no stickers,” it does establish a clear expectation: Public resources are not for personal expression.

The First Amendment Doesn’t Apply the Way They Think It Does

The justification offered by Commissioner Ozias—“free speech”—is a fundamental misunderstanding.

The First Amendment protects citizens from government restriction of speech.
It does not grant government officials the right to use public property as a personal billboard.

There’s a difference between:

• speaking as a private citizen

• and using taxpayer-funded equipment to display ideological messaging

That distinction matters.

Even the Content Raises Questions

One of the stickers in question is tied to the American Civil Liberties Union.

From a legal standpoint, that matters—but only to a point.

An ACLU sticker is generally issue-based, not tied to a specific candidate or ballot measure. Because of that, it likely doesn’t violate Washington’s campaign finance law (RCW 29B.45.010).

But that’s not really the issue here.

The question isn’t whether it’s legal. It’s whether it’s appropriate.

The ACLU isn’t a neutral organization. Like the League of Women Voters, it’s an advocacy group that takes positions on some of the most debated and divisive issues in the country, including:

• criminal justice and policing policies

• homeless encampments and how public spaces are used

• free speech disputes in schools and public institutions

• challenges to government authority and law enforcement

• and more recently, high-profile advocacy around transgender policies, including positions on gender identity in schools, healthcare, and public accommodations

People can—and do—strongly disagree with those positions. That’s exactly the point.

When an elected official puts the branding of an advocacy organization on taxpayer-funded equipment, it’s no longer just personal expression. It starts to look like something more by:

• creating the appearance of government alignment with a particular viewpoint

• raising questions about neutrality

• and blurring the line between personal beliefs and official conduct

Public office comes with a higher standard. Not just in decisions, but in presentation.

Because even small, symbolic choices send a message.

And in this case, the message isn’t neutral.

A Pattern, Not an Isolated Incident

If this were a one-off, it might not matter.

But it’s not.

• Two of three commissioners are doing it

• The response to public concern was dismissive

• And it fits a broader pattern of behavior that many constituents have noticed

Consider:

• Commissioner Ozias has, at times, dismissed critics as “agents” or “conduits” for CC Watchdog rather than engaging their concerns.

• Commissioner French has displayed a level of informality in meetings that many would consider unprofessional

• Commissioner Randy Johnson has publicly indicated decisions before hearing public comment—undermining the purpose of participation altogether

Individually, these may seem small. Together, they point to something larger: A culture that is increasingly disconnected from the people it serves.

A Growing List of Double Standards

What makes this more than a cosmetic issue is the pattern it reflects.

Increasingly, residents are seeing two different sets of rules:

• The public cannot place stickers on county property—but commissioners can

• The public would face consequences for damaging public property—while politically aligned actors have engaged in destruction, filmed it, celebrated it publicly, and faced little visible accountability

• Law enforcement resources are stretched thin for taxpayers—yet taxpayer-funded private security has been arranged for politically connected individuals

• Homeless encampments are allowed to impact public spaces and waterways—conditions that would bring fines or enforcement if experienced elsewhere

• Activists are given extended access and influence—while everyday citizens are limited to a few minutes at the podium

• Many residents carry the tax burden—while some of the most politically influential entities operate tax-exempt

Each of these issues can be debated individually.

But taken together, they create a perception that is difficult to ignore: A two-tiered system—one for insiders, and one for everyone else.

And once that perception takes hold, trust erodes quickly.

Rules For Thee, But Not For Me

This isn’t about stickers.

It’s about whether the same standards apply to everyone.

When elected officials dismiss reasonable questions, blur the line between public and personal property, and operate under a different set of expectations than the people they represent, it sends a message.

Not about policy.

Not about law.

But about respect.

Public office is not personal property.
Taxpayer-funded equipment is not a canvas.
And accountability is not optional.

If small things are treated casually, it’s fair to ask:

Are the big things being treated the same way?

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

oAnother issue raised at the Commissioner Forum wasn’t really about any one topic—it was about capacity, attention, and priorities.

When resident Teresa Miller asked whether commissioners should take a more active role in engaging with local school districts, Commissioner Mike French gave a thoughtful and candid response. He acknowledged that serving effectively on a school board would require significant time and focus, and said plainly that he didn’t believe he could do both roles well at the same time.

That’s an honest answer—and a reasonable one.

But it also raises a bigger question.

If adding one more responsibility would stretch things too thin, what about the dozens already on the table?

In addition to serving as commissioner, French sits on an extensive list of boards and committees, including:

1. Board of Health

2. Canvassing Board

3. Clallam Bay/Sekiu Chamber of Commerce Liaison

4. Clallam Bay/Sekiu Community Action Team

5. Clallam Bay/Sekiu Sewer Advisory Council

6. Clallam County Finance Committee

7. Clallam Transit System

8. Crescent Community Advisory Council

9. Developmental Disability Advisory Council Liaison

10. Forks Chamber of Commerce Liaison

11. Housing Solutions Committee (Alternate)

12. Law Library Board of Trustees

13. Neah Bay Chamber of Commerce Liaison

14. Olympic Area Agency on Aging (Alternate)

15. Olympic Community Action Programs (OlyCAP)

16. Olympic Region Clean Air Agency (ORCAA)

17. Peninsula Regional Transportation Planning Organization

18. Trails Advisory Committee

19. Tribal Liaison – Lower Elwha Klallam, Quileute, Makah

20. Veterans’ Affairs Liaison (Alternate)

21. Washington State Association of Counties – Legislative Steering Committee

22. William Shore Memorial Pool District

That’s not just a busy schedule—it’s a structural overload.

And it matters.

Because when attention is divided, oversight suffers. Not always in obvious ways—but in the kinds of failures that show up later, when it’s harder to fix.

The William Shore Memorial Pool District—where French also serves—was the subject of a State Auditor fraud investigation last year that found:

• $67,000 in questionable spending

• Weak or nonexistent financial controls

• Personal expenses charged to public funds

In December, French was selected to serve as treasurer for the pool.

Which brings the conversation full circle.

If effective leadership requires focus—and even one additional role increases the burden—then it’s fair to ask:

How much is too much?

In this Sundays With Seegers, Clallam County commissioner candidate Jake Seegers recounts a moment no parent wants to face—his 10-year-old son exposed to indecent behavior in broad daylight. But this isn’t just about one incident. It’s about a growing sense that what once shocked us is becoming normalized, and whether those entrusted with public health are meeting their legal and moral obligations. As conditions on the ground change, Seegers asks where does compassion end—and accountability begin?

“I saw a man’s penis today”

Those were the words my 10-year-old son said to me over the weekend. My heart stopped. We had just finished setting up the trampoline. Between the laughter, flips, and wrestling matches, he paused—trying to make sense of something no child should have to process.

Earlier that day, on our drive to Safeway in Port Angeles, he had seen a grown man standing in broad daylight with his pants and underwear down around his ankles.

I missed it. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’ve just become used to it.

In Clallam County, scenes like this are no longer rare. Public drug use, open dealing, indecent exposure, erratic behavior, garbage, human waste—it has become part of daily life in too many places. What once shocked us now barely registers. But it shouldn’t be this way.

A County-Wide Disaster

This is not confined to one street or one neighborhood.

On Old Olympic Highway, a property continues to accumulate solid waste, junk vehicles, and occupied RVs without septic systems. Ownership of the property has been in flux for over a year, and despite numerous complaints and diligent efforts by Sheriff King and Code Enforcement Manager Diane Harvey, solutions have been elusive.

Off Elwha River Road, private property has been overrun by trespassing, dumping, drug use, and camping.

Along Tumwater Creek, on Port of Port Angeles property, a recurring encampment continues to reappear.

Signs of heavy drug use abound.

Volunteers and staff from local clean-up nonprofit 4PA collect the discarded items —knowing full well the garbage will be back in a matter of weeks.

And throughout the county—on city streets, county roads, and Washington State Department of Transportation rights-of-way—solid waste tied to homelessness and substance abuse continues to accumulate.

The question is no longer whether or not this is a public health and environmental emergency.

The question is: Who is responsible for fixing it?

The Law Is Not Ambiguous

Many of these public health and environmental concerns occur within city limits or on Port-owned property. But when collaboration between jurisdictions fails—or when property owners and municipalities are unwilling or unable to act—the authority and responsibility to address them ultimately rests with the Clallam County Board of Health. All three county commissioners serve on that board.

Under Washington law, a county’s duty to address threats to public health is not discretionary—it is statutory. RCW 70.05.060 assigns local boards of health the responsibility to protect public health, including the obligation to provide for the “prevention, control, and abatement of nuisances detrimental to public health.”

That obligation is carried out through the health officer, who under RCW 70.05.070 must enforce public health laws and take action to “prevent, control or abate nuisances.”

The law does not carve out exceptions.

It does not exempt:

• cities

• port districts

• state right-of-way

• private property in an ownership dispute

Public health authority applies everywhere—every parcel, every jurisdiction, every public space.

Washington law further defines nuisance broadly. Under RCW 7.48.120, a nuisance includes anything that “injures or endangers…health or safety…or offends decency…or renders other persons insecure in life, or in the use of property.”

So, when conditions such as the accumulation of solid waste…

The presence of human waste…

Or contamination in or near streams occurs, those conditions fall directly within the definition of a public health nuisance.

The framework is not unclear. It is designed for exactly these circumstances.

Public Land Is Not an Exception

There is a persistent misconception that public land—city and county property, port property, or state right-of-way—is somehow exempt from enforcement.

It is not.

The Clallam County Health Officer’s authority is countywide. Ownership does not negate a hazard. If anything, it increases the obligation to act.

Clallam County Code Title 41 reinforces this authority, allowing enforcement against any “owner, operator, occupant, tenant, or other person.” That language is intentionally broad. It ensures that responsibility cannot be avoided simply because ownership is unclear or shared.

When garbage piles up, when human waste accumulates, when streams are polluted—the issue is no longer about jurisdictional boundaries. It is about public health.

Enforcement Can Include Forced Abatement

The law does not stop at identifying a public health nuisance — it provides a clear enforcement pathway.

Typically, enforcement begins with notice and an order to abate. If ignored, fines may follow.

Washington law provides for court-backed nuisance abatement and cost recovery.

And where conditions pose immediate risk—such as exposure to human waste or contamination of waterways - RCW 70.05.070 authorizes the health officer to “take such action as is necessary” to protect public health.

This is the legal basis for forced or emergency abatement.

The mechanism exists. It is well established.

The only question is whether it is being used here.

When the Law is Ignored

Homelessness and substance abuse response are often framed as policy choices—balancing compassion, housing challenges, and enforcement. But public health law is not optional, and it is not subordinate to policy preference.

The law does not require the elimination of homelessness.

It does require the abatement of conditions that threaten public health.

That distinction matters.

A county can choose how it provides services. It can choose how it allocates resources. But it cannot choose to ignore conditions that meet the legal definition of a public health nuisance.

When those conditions persist without action, it is not a policy difference.

It is a failure to comply with the law.

Rights of Citizens and Cities

When a Health Officer fails to fulfill her statutory duties, citizens may file complaints with the State Board of Health, which can review the matter and, if warranted, initiate proceedings that may result in removal.

Elsewhere in Washington, cities like Spokane are taking public and environmental health threats directly.

In late 2025, the Spokane City Council unanimously approved the “Safe and Accessible Spaces” ordinance, explicitly tying enforcement of camping restrictions to public health and environmental protection—including waste, fire risk, and waterway contamination.

And it seems to be working.

As one resident recently told The Spokesman Review:

“This is what a clean and safe downtown looks like…it’s almost a strange feeling.”

That should not feel strange.

It should feel normal.

The Stinky Truth

Earlier this week, I was reminded just how far we’ve drifted.

While cleaning up an abandoned campsite under the 8th Street Bridge, the contents of dozens of colostomy bags splattered onto my boots as I pulled them from the blackberry brambles where they had been discarded.

Separately, a fellow 4PA crewmember searched for the source of the stench of human feces that seemed to follow him—only to discover it had leaked down his back from a heavy bag of trash he was carrying to the dump trailer.

Nearby, another volunteer risked personal injury, combing through piles of solid waste, rotting food, and discarded harm-reduction supplies to pull hundreds of syringes from the ground.

And as we cleaned, one question kept coming to mind:

• Where is the Health Officer?

• Where are the commissioners?

• Where is the Board of Health?

This is the result of their policies.

This is their harm reduction trash.

This is their mess.

They should be cleaning it up.

More importantly, when coordination between jurisdictions, law enforcement, and property owners breaks down—regardless of ownership, location, or city policy—the Clallam County Board of Health, including the commissioners and the Health Officer, retains both the authority and the legal obligation to act.

Pivot to Common Sense

It’s time to pivot from the failed policies of the last decade and restore public safety, public health, and environmental stewardship to Clallam County through common-sense leadership.

Here’s how:

1. End outdoor living on public land by consistently enforcing existing laws. If cities refuse to act, the Health Officer has the obligation to abate public health nuisance.

2. Prioritize local housing resources for individuals currently residing in Clallam County.

3. Strengthen shelter policies to ensure that services are supportive and attractive for those leaving outdoor living.

4. Expand transitional shelter capacity rather than focusing primarily on costly permanent supportive housing.

5. Reduce the cash flow that fuels addiction through clear anti-panhandling signage and public education.

6. Redirect funding from drug-use supplies to treatment programs with measurable results.

7. Measure success by outcomes — tracking how many individuals move from addiction to sobriety and from homelessness to stable lives.

What can you do?

If this concerns you, don’t stay silent.

Reach out to your county commissioners and ask what specific steps are being taken to address these public health conditions—and what measurable outcomes the public should expect.

All three commissioners can be contacted by emailing the Clerk of the Board at loni.gores@clallamcountywa.gov.

You can also contact the County Health Officer, Dr. Allison Berry, at allison.berry@clallamcountywa.gov.

Public policy improves when the public participates—your voice matters.

Leave a comment

Editor’s Note: CC Watchdog editor Jeff Tozzer also serves as campaign manager for Jake Seegers during his run for Clallam County Commissioner, District 3. Learn more at www.JakeSeegers.com.

The library says it’s broke—but the receipts tell a different story. While warning of cuts and asking voters for millions more, NOLS has already spent over $50,000 on DEI consultants, curated “community conversations,” and ideological programming that raises a bigger question: are taxpayers funding services—or a transformation?

The North Olympic Library System wants voters to believe it’s facing a financial cliff.

Without a $3 million levy lid lift, they warn, services will be cut, hours reduced, and reserves exhausted. The situation, they say, is unsustainable.

But before taxpayers agree to send more money, there’s a basic question that hasn’t been answered:

What exactly have they been spending money on—and what did it produce?

Because over the past two years, NOLS has quietly paid more than $50,000 to a DEI consulting operation called Speaking Justice, run by Miriame Cherbib.

This wasn’t a one-off training. It helped shape the library’s 2026–2030 strategic roadmap—the same institution now asking taxpayers for millions more.

And if you want to understand what that money bought, you don’t have to guess. The blueprint was already tested right here in Sequim.

Before the Library, There Was the City

Back in 2021, Sequim launched a series of “Community Conversations on Race, Equity and Inclusion.” On paper, these were open forums meant to gather community input.

In reality, they were carefully designed, tightly managed exercises—facilitated by Cherbib and a small network of local activists.

Internal planning documents show the goal wasn’t just conversation—it was control of tone, language, and outcome.

At one point, organizers warned that even basic words might be too dangerous:

“Do not have words that are too triggering… even the word ‘conversation’ can be dividing.”

They worried that using the word “diversity” itself could backfire:

“Diversity might invite trouble… perceived as reverse racism.”

So the solution?

Adjust the language. Pivot the message.

No Recordings. No Transcripts. No Problem.

If this was truly about open dialogue, you might expect transparency.

Instead, organizers made a very deliberate choice:

“We want to capture what we heard but don’t want to create a public record.”

No recordings.
No transcripts.
Just curated “themes.”

And if someone stepped out of line?

Discussion included how to “control” the conversation—participants could be “block[ed] or mute[d] or remove[d].”

This wasn’t just a conversation.

It was a managed environment.

What People Were Actually Saying

When you look at the raw chat logs and summaries, the tone becomes clear—and it’s not subtle.

Participants described Sequim in stark, sweeping terms:

“Institutional racism has dominated our lives ever since the territory… was forcibly taken…” — Timothy Wheeler

Others painted the region as unwelcoming, even unsafe:

The Olympic Peninsula is “scary for BIPOC.” — Carlos Osorio

Sequim is seen as “mostly redneck conservative, and not welcoming.”

Even cultural life came under scrutiny:

Local traditions “reinforce the attitude that only those white multigenerational families deserve to be recognized.”

And policy ideas followed quickly behind:

• Calls for racial representation on city council

• Expansion of DEI oversight in public institutions

• Anti-racism education in schools and community programs

• Government-supported “cultural competency” training

At one point, the conversation turned toward giving back to the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe:

“We definitely need to give ‘something’ back… so long overdue.”

A Familiar Cast of Characters

These weren’t random residents.

The same names appear again and again:

• Jim Stoffer (Sequim School Board member who resigned amidst scandal)

• Patrice Johnston (LWV activist and current Sequim School Board member)

• Becky Horst (local activist and Nextdoor contributor)

• Lindsey Schromen-Wawrin (eco-activist and former Port Angeles City Councilmember)

• Tim Wheeler (self-described communist activist)

• Carlos Osorio (socialist organizer of the forum)

This wasn’t a cross-section of the community.

It was a network of politically engaged participants shaping the direction of public policy conversations.

From Classroom to City Hall to Library Policy

The throughline becomes hard to ignore.

Cherbib:

• Developed anti-racist curriculum at Five Acre School

• Led city-wide equity discussions

• Now consults on library strategy and culture

This isn’t isolated work.

It’s a progression:

Education → Civic engagement → Public policy → Taxpayer-funded institutions

And now, it’s embedded in the very system asking for more money.

Meanwhile, Back at the Library

While all of this was unfolding, NOLS:

• Spent tens of thousands on DEI consulting

• Developed long-term “culture change” strategies

• Adopted a formal land acknowledgment

“The North Olympic Library System acknowledges that the lands… are the appropriated homelands of Indigenous Peoples…”

Curiously:

• It’s published in English and Spanish

• But not in S’Klallam

So What Are Taxpayers Being Asked to Fund?

That’s the real issue.

Not whether conversations about equity should exist—but whether this is the best use of limited public funds, especially while claiming financial distress.

Because the same organization saying:

• “We’re running out of money”

• “We need $3 million more”

…has already invested heavily in a very specific ideological framework—one that includes:

• Managed conversations

• Controlled narratives

• Selective documentation

• And policy recommendations rooted in activist perspectives

The Bottom Line

Before voters approve a $3 million tax increase, they deserve clarity.

Not slogans.
Not warnings.
Not curated summaries.

Just a simple, direct answer:

Did this spending serve the public—or reshape the institution?

Leave a comment

Today’s Tidbit

The Washington State Department of Commerce recently highlighted a funding opportunity through the Washington State Public Works Board—backed by taxpayer dollars—that will distribute $5.1 million for broadband expansion.

For rural counties like Clallam County, where reliable internet access is still limited in many areas, that kind of investment could be significant.

But there’s an important detail in how the funding is structured:

Applications are prioritized, with Tribal governments eligible first, followed by local governments and other applicants.

A letter supporting the transfer of federal refuge land wasn’t drafted by Sequim officials—it was handed to them. Emails show the Mayor moved quickly to put it on the agenda, unchanged, until public pushback forced a pause.

At Monday night’s Sequim City Council meeting, Mayor Rachel Anderson said she placed a proposed letter of support on the consent agenda because she “didn’t think that any council members would have any opposition.”

She acknowledged receiving several emails about the issue, but defended the move by saying “anyone can ask for a letter of support.”

“This is a letter of support—that is what it is,” Anderson said. “It is not the city gifting land to anybody—it’s not our land to give.” She added that it’s “not our jurisdiction, quite frankly,” but said she supported it because of the Tribe’s track record as a partner.

That raises a simple question: if it’s not the City’s jurisdiction, why was it moving forward at all—and why with so little scrutiny?

Now we know how it started.

Public records show that on March 19, Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe Chairman/CEO Ron Allen emailed Mayor Anderson directly with a pre-written draft letter of support for federal legislation that would transfer the Dungeness and Protection Island National Wildlife Refuges into trust for the Tribe.

“Mayor,
I’m attaching a draft letter of support… We are hopeful that you and the Council will support our legislation proposal.”

Later that same day, Anderson replied:

“I will reach out to staff to request this be added to our next Council meeting agenda… I’m hoping it can be added to Monday’s meeting.”

And it was.

Here’s the part that matters: the draft Allen sent is the exact letter the City prepared to send. Not similar. Not revised. Not adapted. Word-for-word identical.

No edits. No independent analysis. No added perspective from the City of Sequim—just a direct pass-through.

The letter itself reads like a full endorsement, highlighting the Tribe’s economic contributions, stewardship, and community role in glowing terms. It credits the Tribe with everything from healthcare services to tourism, land management, and environmental protection—while urging federal lawmakers to advance the land transfer.

That may or may not reflect the views of Sequim residents. But it clearly reflects the views of the party requesting the land.

Public Pushback—and a Sudden Pause

During public comment, every speaker who addressed the issue opposed the letter.

The concerns weren’t vague. They were specific:

• The issue is outside the City’s jurisdiction

• Questions about the Tribe’s commercial oyster farming of a non-native species in a national refuge

• Concerns about long-term public access

• Whether fees—like the Makah Tribe’s $20 beach access permits—could eventually apply

Notably, the Tribe did not attend the meeting or comment.

After hearing the pushback, the Council shifted. What had been placed on the consent agenda—typically reserved for routine, non-controversial items—was pulled and delayed for further discussion.

Councilmember Dan Butler acknowledged the situation:

“It appears to be quite a divisive issue fundamentally and I’m not clear why that exists, but people have their issues.”

But by that point, the “issues” and reasons had already been clearly laid out by the public.

“It’s Not Our Gig”… But Still Our Letter

Mayor Anderson emphasized again:

“It’s not our gig, right? It was just a letter of support.”

She suggested that residents with questions should take them up with the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe.

But that raises a practical problem: the Tribe is a sovereign nation and is under no obligation to answer to Sequim residents.

Councilmember Butler suggested directing concerns to federal representatives instead.

Councilmember Nicole Hartman recommended providing links so the public could “do their own reading.”

Fair enough—but shouldn’t that apply to the Council as well?

By their own discussion, it was clear several members were still learning basic details about the proposal after the letter had already been placed on the agenda.

Councilmember Harmony Rutter said:

“I have had nothing but positive experiences interacting with the tribe. From the way that they do so much outreach to the community during times of public health crisis, during times of when folks need to access resources and all of the ways that they work to steward the the lands that we all have that we all are enjoying at this time. I I look forward to learning more and being curious and learn and receiving more resources and input before making any kind of decisions and in the most respectful way possible with the Jamestown tribe.”

That’s a reasonable position. But it came after the City was already prepared to send a formal endorsement to Congress.

Good Governance—or Something Else?

There’s another layer here worth paying attention to.

Councilmembers Dan Butler, Nicole Hartman, Harmony Rutter, Brandon Janisse, and Mayor Rachel Anderson were all endorsed by the Sequim Good Governance League (SGGL).

That same group promotes transparency, accountability, and thoughtful decision-making.

SGGL itself emerged during a very public dispute over the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe’s proposed Medication Assisted Treatment (MAT) clinic. In its own materials, SGGL described how a prior council had become controversial in part for opposing the Tribe’s MAT facility, and how the “Save Our Sequim” movement was spreading what supporters called misinformation about substance abuse treatment and the Tribe’s plans.

SGGL organizers positioned themselves as a response—arguing the council was not acting on behalf of constituents and needed to be replaced with leadership focused on “good governance.” All five SGGL-backed candidates went on to win.

In other words, the Tribe’s MAT clinic debate wasn’t just a background issue—it was a defining moment that helped shape the political coalition now holding a majority on the council.

So it’s fair to ask: is it “good governance” to take a letter written by an outside party—one with a direct interest in the outcome—and move it forward without changes, without independent analysis, and without meaningful discussion?

In local races that often see little to no financial activity, it’s also worth noting that the Jamestown Tribe contributed $1,200 each to both Dan Butler and Harmony Rutter.

None of that proves wrongdoing. But it does add context—especially when the City appears ready to support a major federal land transfer based on language it didn’t write.

A Pattern Worth Noting

There’s another piece of context that’s hard to ignore.

Last August, Clallam County Commissioners reached out to the Jamestown Tribe seeking a conversation about lodging and property taxes.

Commissioner Ozias received an acknowledgment:

“We will let you know if/when we need further conversations.”