Redacted fudge, million-dollar fees and the NSA's technical difficulties highlight the worst in government transparency. 

• Cover art by Hannah Diaz

The public's right to access government information is constantly under siege across the United States, from both sides of the political aisle.

In Maryland, where Democrats hold majorities, the attorney general and state Legislature are pushing a bill to allow agencies to reject public records requests that they consider "harassing." At the same time, President Donald Trump's administration has moved its most aggressive government reform effort—the Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE—outside the reach of the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), while also beginning the mass removal of public data sets.

One of the most powerful tools to fight back against bad governance is public ridicule. That's where we come in: Every year around the time of Sunshine Week (March 16 to 22), the Electronic Frontier Foundation, MuckRock and AAN Publishers team up to publish The Foilies. This annual report—now a decade old—names and shames the most repugnant, absurd and incompetent responses to public records requests under FOIA and state transparency laws.

Sometimes the good guys win. For example, last year we highlighted the Los Angeles Police Department for using the courts to retaliate against advocates and a journalist who had rightfully received and published official photographs of police officers. The happy ending (at least for transparency): LAPD has since lost the case, and the city paid the advocates $300,000 to cover their legal bills.

Here are this year's "winners." While they may not all pay up, at least we can make sure they get the negative publicity they're owed.

The Exorbitant FOIA Fee of the Year:
Rapides Parish School District
After a church distributed a religious tract at Lessie Moore Elementary School in Pineville, La., young students quickly dubbed its frank discussion of mature themes as "the sex book." Hirsh M. Joshi from the Freedom From Religion Foundation, a lawyer representing a parent, filed a request with the Rapides Parish School District to try to get some basic information: How much did the school coordinate with the church distributing the material? Did other parents complain? What was the internal reaction?

Joshi was stunned when the school district responded with an initial estimate of $2 million to cover the cost of processing the request. After local media picked up the story and a bit of negotiating, the school ultimately waived the charges and responded with a mere nine pages of responsive material.

While Rapides Parish's sky-high estimate ultimately took home the gold this year, there was fierce competition. The Massachusetts State Police wanted $176,431 to review—and potentially not even release—materials about recruits who leave the state's training program early. Back in Louisiana, the Jefferson Parish District Attorney's office insisted on charging a grieving father more than $5,000 for records on the suspicious death of his son.

The Now You See It, Now You Don't Award:
University of Wisconsin-Madison
Sports reporter Daniel Libit's public records request is at the heart of a lawsuit that looks a lot like the Spider-Man pointing meme.

In 2023, Libit filed the request for a contract between the University of Wisconsin and Altius Sports Partners, a firm that consults college athletic programs on payment strategies for college athletes ("Name, Image, Likeness" or NIL deals), after reading a university press release about the partnership.

The university denied the request, claiming that Altius was actually contracted by the University of Wisconsin Foundation, a separate 501(c)(3). So, Libit asked the foundation for the contract. The foundation then denied the request, claiming it was exempt from Wisconsin's open records laws.

After the denial, Libit filed a lawsuit for the records, which was then dismissed, because the university and foundation argued that Libit had incorrectly asked for a contract between the university and Altius, as opposed to the foundation and Altius.

The foundation did produce a copy of the contract in the lawsuit, but the game of hiding the ball makes one thing clear, as Libit wrote after: "If it requires this kind of effort to get a relatively prosaic NIL consultant contract, imagine the lengths schools are willing to go to keep the really interesting stuff hidden."

The Fudged Up Beyond All Recognition Award:
Central Intelligence Agency
There are state secrets, and there are family secrets, and sometimes they mix ... like a creamy, gooey confectionary.

After Mike Pompeo finished his first year as Trump's CIA director in 2017, investigative reporter Jason Leopold sent a FOIA request asking for all of the memos Pompeo sent to staff. Seven years later, the agency finally produced the records, including a "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year" message recounting the annual holiday reception and gingerbread competition, which was won by a Game of Thrones-themed entry. ("And good use of ice cream cones!" Pompeo wrote.)

At the party, Pompeo handed out cards with his mom's "secret" recipe for fudge, and for those who couldn't make it, he also sent it out as an email attachment. But the CIA redacted the whole thing, vaguely claiming it was protected from disclosure under federal law.

This isn't the first time the federal government has protected Pompeo's culinary secrets: In 2021, the State Department redacted Pompeo's pizza toppings and favorite sandwich from emails.

The You Can't Handle the Truth Award:
Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin
In Virginia, state officials have come under fire in the past few years for shielding records from the public under the broad use of a "working papers and correspondence" FOIA exemption.

When a records request came in for internal communications on the state's Military Survivors and Dependents Education Program, which provides tuition-free college to spouses and children of military veterans killed or disabled as a result of their service, Gov. Glenn Youngkin's office used this "working papers" exemption to reject the FOIA request.

The twist is the request was made by Kayla Owen, a military spouse and a member of the governor's own task force studying the program. Despite Owen's attempts to correct the parameters of the request, Youngkin's office made the final decision in July to withhold more than two folders worth of communications with officials who have been involved with policy discussions about the program.

The Courts Cloaked in Secrecy Award (Tie):
Solano County Superior Court, Calif., and Washoe County District Court, Nev.
Courts are usually the last place the public can go to vindicate their rights to government records when agencies flout them. When agencies lock down records, courts usually provide the key to open them up.

Except in Vallejo, Calif., where a state trial court judge decided to lock his own courtroom during a public records lawsuit—a move that even Franz Kafka would have dismissed as too surreal and ironic.

The lawsuit filed by the American Civil Liberties Union sought a report detailing a disturbing ritual in which officers bent their badges to celebrate their on-duty killings of local residents.

When public access advocates filed an emergency motion to protest the court closure, the court denied it without even letting them in to argue their case. This was not just a bad look; it violated the California and U.S. constitutions, which guarantee public access to court proceedings and a public hearing prior to barring the courtroom doors.

Not to be outdone, a Nevada trial court judge has twice barred a local group from filming hearings concerning a public records lawsuit. The request sought records of an alleged domestic violence incident at the Reno city manager's house.

Despite the Nevada Supreme Court rebuking the judge for prohibiting cameras in her courtroom, she later denied the same group from filming another hearing. The transparency group continues to fight for camera access, but its persistence should not be necessary: The court should have let them record from the get-go.

The No Tech Support Award:
National Security Agency
In 1982, Rear Adm. Grace Hopper (then a captain) presented a lecture to the National Security Agency entitled "Future Possibilities: Data, Hardware, Software, and People." One can only imagine Hopper's disappointment if she had lived long enough to learn that in the future, the NSA would claim it was impossible for its people to access the recording of the talk.

Hopper is undoubtedly a major figure in the history of computing whose records and lectures are of undeniable historical value, and Michael Ravnitzky, frequent FOIA requester and founder of Government Attic, requested this particular lecture back in 2021.

Three years later, the NSA responded to tell him that they had no responsive documents.

Befuddled, Ravnitzky pointed out the lecture had been listed in the NSA's own Television Center Catalogue. At that point, the agency copped to the actual issue.

Yes, it had the record, but it was captured on AMPEX 1-inch open reel tapes, as was more common in the 1980s. Despite being a major intelligence agency with high-tech surveillance and communication capabilities, the NSA claimed that it could not find any way to access the archive recording.

Let's unpack the multi-layered egregiousness of the NSA's actions here. It took the agency three years to respond to this FOIA. When it did, the NSA claimed that it had nothing responsive, which was a lie. But the most colossal failure by the NSA was its claim that it couldn't find a way to make accessible to the public important moments from our history because of technical difficulties.

But leave it to librarians to put spies to shame: The National Archives stepped in to help, and now you can watch the lecture in two parts.

Ten Years of The Foilies
The Electronic Frontier Foundation looks back at the games governments played to avoid transparency.
By Dave Maass

In the year 2015, we witnessed the launch of OpenAI, a debate over the color of a dress going viral and a Supreme Court decision that same-sex couples have the right to get married.

It was also the year that the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) first published The Foilies, an annual report that hands out tongue-in-cheek "awards" to government agencies and officials that respond outrageously when a member of the public tries to access public records through the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) or similar laws.

A lot has changed over the last decade, but one thing that hasn't is the steady flow of attempts by authorities to avoid their legal and ethical obligations to be open and accountable. Sometimes, these cases are intentional, but just as often, they are due to incompetence or straight-up half-assedness.

Over the years, EFF has teamed up with MuckRock to document and ridicule these FOIA fails and transparency trip-ups. And through a partnership with AAN Publishers, we have named-and-shamed the culprits in weekly newspapers and on indie news sites across the United States in celebration of Sunshine Week, an annual event raising awareness of the role access to public records plays in a democracy.

This year, we reflect on the most absurd and frustrating winners from the last 10 years as we prepare for the next decade, which may even be more terrible for government transparency.

The Most Infuriating FOIA Fee:
U.S. Department of Defense (2016 Winner)
Under FOIA, federal agencies are able to charge "reasonable" fees for producing copies of records. But sometimes, agencies fabricate enormous price tags to pressure the requester to drop the query.

In 2015, Martin Peck asked the U.S. Department of Defense (DOD) to disclose the number of "HotPlug" devices (tools used to preserve data on seized computers) it had purchased. The DOD said it would cost $660 million and 15 million labor hours (over 1,712 years), because its document system wasn't searchable by keyword, and staff would have to comb through 30 million contracts by hand.

Runners-up:
City of Seattle (2019 Winner): City officials quoted a member of the public $33 million for metadata for every email sent in 2017, but ultimately reduced the fee to $40.

Rochester (Michigan) Community Schools District (2023 Winner): A group of parents critical of the district's remote-learning plan requested records to see if the district was spying on their social media. One parent was told they would have to cough up $18,641,345 for the records, because the district would have to sift through every email.

Willacy County (Texas) Sheriff's Office (2016 Winner): When the Houston Chronicle asked for crime data, the sheriff sent them an itemized invoice that included $98.40 worth of Wite-Out—the equivalent of 55 bottles—to redact 1,016 pages of records.

The Most Ridiculous Redaction:
Federal Bureau of Investigation (2015 Winner)
Brad Heath, who in 2014 was a reporter at USA Today, got a tip that a shady figure had possibly attended an FBI retirement party. So he filed a request for the guest list and pictures taken at the event. In response, the FBI sent a series of surreal photos of the attendees, hugging, toasting, and posing awkwardly, but all with polygonal redactions covering their faces like some sort of mutant, Minecraft family reunion.

Runner-Up
U.S. Southern Command (2023 Winner): Investigative journalist Jason Leopold obtained scans of paintings by detainees at Guantanamo Bay, which were heavily redacted under the claim that the art would disclose law enforcement information that could "reasonably be expected to risk circumvention of the law."

The Most Reprehensible Reprisal Against a Requester:
White Castle, Louisiana (2017 Winner)
Chris Nakamoto, at the time a reporter for WBRZ, filed a public records request to probe the White Castle mayor's salary. But when he went down to check on some of the missing records, he was handcuffed, placed in a holding cell, and charged with the crime of "remaining after being forbidden."

He was summoned to appear before the "Mayor's Court" in a judicial proceeding presided over by none other than the same mayor he was investigating. The charges were dropped two months later.

Runners-up
Jack White (2015 Winner): One of the rare non-government Foilies winners, the White Stripes guitarist verbally abused University of Oklahoma student journalists and announced he wouldn't play at the school anymore. The reason? The student newspaper, OU Daily, obtained and published White's contract for a campus performance, which included his no-longer-secret guacamole recipe, a bowl of which was demanded in his rider.

Richlands, Virginia (2024 Winner): Resident Laura Mollo used public records laws to investigate problems with Richlands' 911 system and, in response, experienced intense harassment from the city and its contractors, including the police pulling her over and the city appointing a special prosecutor to investigate her. On separate occasions, Morro even says she found her mailbox filled with spaghetti and manure.

Worst Federal Agency of the Decade:
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Bashing the FBI has come back into vogue among certain partisan circles in recent years, but we've been slamming the feds long before it was trendy.

The agency received eight Foilies over the last decade, more than any other entity, but the FBI's hostility towards FOIA goes back much further. In 2021, the Cato Institute uncovered records showing that, since at least 1989, the FBI had been spying on the National Security Archive, a non-profit watchdog that keeps an eye on the intelligence community.

The FBI's methods included both physical and electronic surveillance, and the records show the FBI specifically cited the organization's "tenacity" in using FOIA.

Cato's Patrick G. Eddington reported it took 11 months for the FBI to produce those records, but that's actually relatively fast for the agency.

We highlighted a 2009 FOIA request that the FBI took 12 years to fulfill: Bruce Alpert of the Times-Picayune had asked for records regarding the corruption case of U.S. Rep. William Jefferson, but by the time he received the 84 pages in 2021, the reporter had retired.

Similarly, when George Washington University professor and documentary filmmaker Nina Seavey asked the FBI for records related to surveillance of antiwar and civil rights activists, the FBI told her it would take 17 years to provide the documents. When the agency launched an online system for accepting FOIA requests, it somehow made the process even more difficult.

The FBI was at its worst when it was attempting to use non-disclosure agreements to keep local law enforcement agencies from responding to public records requests regarding the use of cell phone surveillance technologies called cell-site simulators, or "stingrays."

The agency even went so far as to threaten agencies that release technical information to media organizations with up to 20 years in prison and a $1 million fine, claiming it would be a violation of the Arms Export Control Act.

But you don't have to take our word for it: Even Micky Dolenz of The Monkees had to sue the FBI to get records on how agents collected intelligence on the 1960s band.

Worst Local Jurisdiction of the Decade:
Chicago, Illinois
Over the last decade, The Foilies have called out officials at all levels of government and in every part of the country (and even in several other countries). But time and time again, one city keeps demonstrating special antagonism to the idea of freedom of information: the Windy City.

In fact, the most ridiculous justification for ignoring transparency obligations we ever encountered was proudly championed by now-former Mayor Lori Lightfoot during the COVID-19 lockdown in April 2020.

She offered a bogus choice to Chicagoans: the city could either process public records requests or provide pandemic response, falsely claiming that answering these requests would pull epidemiologists off the job.

According to the Chicago Tribune, she implied that responding to FOIA requests would result in people having to "bury another grandmother." She even invoked the story of Passover, claiming that the "angel of death is right here in our midst every single day" as a reason to suspend FOIA deadlines.

If we drill down on Chicago, there's one particular department that seems to take particular pleasure in screwing the public: the Chicago Police Department (CPD).

In 2021, CPD was nominated so many times (for withholding records of search warrants, a list of names of police officers, and body-worn camera footage from a botched raid) that we just threw up our hands and named them "The Hardest Department to FOIA" of the year.

In one particularly nasty case, CPD had mistakenly raided the home of an innocent woman and handcuffed her while she was naked and did not allow her to dress. Later, the woman filed a FOIA request for the body-worn camera footage and had to sue to get it.

But CPD didn't leave it there: the city's lawyers tried to block a TV station from airing the video and then sought sanctions against the woman's attorney.