Megan Castillo spent years fighting for Measure J so her nephew, Daniel, could get mental health care instead of a jail cell. In 2020, 57% of Los Angeles County voters backed that vision, diverting $500 million annually from incarceration to housing, therapy, job training, and racial justice. It was a rare win for the people. The Board of Supervisors had placed it directly on the ballot—no signature gathering needed—recognizing the urgency of the moment.
But four years later, that same Board quietly erased it.
No warning. No debate. Just gone.
This wasn’t reform. It was an accidental—but devastating—heist of the public will. It’s time for a reset, grounded in transparency, not self-dealing.
A Constitutional Catastrophe
Measure G, passed by voters on November 5, 2024, was sold as “good government.” It expanded the Board of Supervisors from five to nine members, introduced a new county executive, and created an ethics commission. Supervisor Lindsey Horvath called it “historic.”
But buried in the fine print was a ticking time bomb: Section 8 of Measure G repealed Article III, Section 10 of the County Charter—the very section created by Measure J to fund alternatives to incarceration.
How did this happen?
At the July 9, 2025, meeting of the County’s Governance Reform Task Force, former Duarte Councilmember John Fasana revealed that the charter used to draft Measure G was missing Measure J entirely. County Counsel later confirmed: when Measure G rewrote the charter, it used a flawed 2016 version, meaning the hard-fought $500 million reallocation vanished, set to expire in 2028.
This wasn’t a typo. It was a structural collapse. The voters were never told. Ballot language didn’t flag the repeal. No public hearings raised red flags. As Megan Castillo told the Los Angeles Times, “It’s disrespectful to the will of the people.”
If Measure G stands, it’s not just an oversight—it’s the theft of a voter mandate.
Secrecy as a System
This disaster didn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s part of a pattern of bureaucratic opacity and political evasion.
In 2025 alone, several key governance meetings—including Board cluster sessions and Measure G implementation check-ins—were quietly canceled. When meetings were held, like those of the Governance Reform Task Force on May 30 and July 9, public engagement was sparse, and transparency was minimal.
It fits a disturbing trend: in 2021, the Board hired Covington & Burling LLP to investigate countywide contracting fraud in the wake of the Mark Ridley-Thomas scandal. The firm reviewed $80 billion in public contracts. The public paid for the probe, but the Board refused to release the report, citing attorney-client privilege.
Public trust can’t survive that kind of secrecy. It’s not accountability. It’s concealment.
Supervisor Horvath blamed the old five-member system for the charter mess, saying, “When five people are in charge, no one is.” But adding more seats won’t fix a process that buries voter mandates. In 2025—amid billion-dollar wildfire losses, budget cuts, and ICE raids—expanding the Board feels like a power grab, not progress. If this is what five supervisors deliver, who wants nine?
The Media’s Deafening Silence
When Measure G passed, the Los Angeles Times offered up warm praise. The editorial board called it “overdue housecleaning.” There was no mention of Measure J’s vanishing. Reporter Rebecca Ellis didn’t uncover the erasure until July 2025—eight months later—after Fasana broke the news at a public meeting.
Where were the watchdogs?
There’s been no deep dive into why Measure J was never codified in the charter after 2020. No serious interrogation of how County Counsel missed the repeal. No scrutiny of why the Covington report remains sealed. No sustained attention to canceled meetings or shady contract practices, like possible Job Order Contracting fraud.
As Yascha Mounk might say, this is elite misinformation by omission—media trading accountability for moral posturing. If the press won’t hold power accountable, what exactly is its function?
A Better Way Forward
This isn’t about left versus right. It’s about right versus wrong. Measure J earned a 57% voter mandate. No one voted to erase care in favor of cages. Fortunately, Measure G’s redistricting changes don’t take effect until 2032. There’s still time to course-correct.
Here’s the plan:
1. Suspend Measure G now.Pause all implementation until the charter is corrected and the public is fully informed.
2. Restore Measure J.Enshrine Article III, Section 10 in the County Charter by March 2026, with a full public process.
3. Create an independent commission.Appoint legal scholars, Reimagine LA coalition members, and members of the public to draft a clean, unified reform package—no cronies, no consultants—by June 2026.
4. Engage the public.Hold monthly town halls across the county, with interpreters and online access for real input.
5. Let the people decide.Put a clear, voter-driven measure on the 2028 ballot. Real reform must be built from the bottom up.
We waited a century to reform the county charter. Two more years to do it right is not too much to ask.
A Promise We Must Keep
At a July 2025 Board meeting, “Smart Speaker” echoed what he once told Zev Yaroslavsky a decade ago: “I’m just a volunteer—not Vin Scully, narrating play by play—but we sure could use one. And if this looks easy, it’s not. It’s a royal pain in the ass. So make more of an effort.”
He’s right. The County Charter is our civic operating system. Leave out Measure J, and the system crashes.
Megan Castillo’s nephew, Daniel, deserves a county that keeps its promises. So do the 57% of voters who chose community care over mass incarceration.
Let’s not replace a broken machine with a bloated one. Let’s build something worthy. Let’s put real reform on the ballot—strong, simple, and truthful. Measure G made a mess. It’s time for a reset.
Measure J must stand. Let the people decide.
Eric Preven is a Studio City-based writer/producer and watchdog focused on ethics, transparency, and public access in Los Angeles government.