FOIA

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    The Supreme Court Takes Up the Question of Who Gets to See DOGE’s Records

    ByHugh Jass

    On October 13, 2026, the Supreme Court agreed to hear the administration’s challenge to discovery in a case over records sought from the U.S. DOGE Service. That is a real procedural step. It is not a ruling that DOGE must answer FOIA requests, and it is not an order to release the records. The docket has opened a door to argument; it has not sent a records clerk sprinting toward the copier.

    The request and the refusal

    Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington, or CREW, sought DOGE records that included organizational information and financial disclosures. The government declined to process the request, saying DOGE was not subject to the Freedom of Information Act. CREW then sued. In its filing opposing Supreme Court review, CREW describes seeking discovery—information gathered during litigation—to help establish whether DOGE falls within FOIA’s reach.

    The administration is challenging the discovery allowed in the lower-court litigation. The dispute matters because information gathered there could help the parties address whether DOGE qualifies as an entity covered by FOIA. CREW’s filing gives its account of the request and the discovery dispute; it is a party’s argument, not a final judicial finding about DOGE’s status.

    What the Court has—and has not—done

    The Supreme Court docket records that the Court granted review on October 13. The case before the justices concerns discovery relevant to CREW’s FOIA case and DOGE’s status under the law. Discovery is a process for gathering information in a lawsuit. It is separate from deciding the ultimate legal question, and separate again from ordering an agency or other entity to disclose records to the public.

    That distinction is the whole machine. The Court has not decided whether DOGE is covered by FOIA. Nor does agreeing to hear the administration’s challenge mean the justices have endorsed the administration’s position or CREW’s. The grant concerns what information may be gathered as the case proceeds; it does not resolve what the requested records ultimately must reveal, or whether they must be released.

    For people trying to understand how a powerful government operation is organized and financed, the dispute matters because access rules determine what can be examined in public. But the development now is about the process for testing DOGE’s legal status, not a completed transparency ruling. A case can advance to the Supreme Court while the records remain undisclosed and the central FOIA question remains open. Paperwork can travel a long way while disclosure stays in the waiting room, holding a numbered ticket.

    Sources

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    The DOJ’s Paperwork Siege of the Voter Rolls

    ByHugh Jass

    I entered the federal filing cabinet wearing my most serious expression and found the Justice Department asking states to preserve voter records while pursuing a broader campaign for election data. Important distinction: preserving records means keeping them available for a legal dispute. It does not automatically mean releasing every voter file, and it does not prove that the records contain wrongdoing. The document coughed anyway.

    According to the Associated Press, preservation letters went to 29 states and Washington, D.C. The department has described the requests as routine litigation procedure, which is bureaucrat for “please remain calm while the machinery grows another arm.” The scale matters. A routine step normally does not arrive with this many jurisdictions, privacy objections, active court fights, and warnings about possible sanctions if records are not preserved.

    The AP report also notes that no evidence has been established of widespread election fraud. That leaves the public with a familiar government magic trick: gather a vast amount of sensitive information first, then let the existence of the information create the atmosphere of suspicion. The records may be relevant to a dispute. They are not, by their mere existence, a confession from the states or a verdict against voters.

    Meanwhile, the Brennan Center is pursuing a Freedom of Information Act case seeking records about how the Justice Department wants to gather, analyze, and use state voter-registration lists. Its case page describes a proposed September 16, 2026, production schedule, not a final ruling. So even the effort to find out what the department is doing has become another records dispute, because apparently the paperwork must first be subpoenaed from the paperwork.

    My audit finds a campaign wrapped in administrative fog: preserve everything, demand access where possible, describe the pressure as ordinary, and let the filing cabinets sweat in silence. The haunted machinery of oversight has been assembled backward. First it seizes the paperwork, then it asks the paperwork what it knows, and finally it treats the filing cabinet as a suspect for having drawers.

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    FBI’s ‘Header Horror’: Court Undoes a Redaction Dance

    ByHugh Jass

    In a decision that could only delight bureaucratic aficionados, the Fifth Circuit Court has provided clarity—and perhaps comedy—on a peculiar Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) dispute. On March 26, 2026, the court ruled on a case involving an FBI redaction of an email’s metadata, known fondly now in FOIA circles as ‘header horror.’ The email, dating back to June 2, 2016, chillingly declared ‘I AM GOING TO SHOOT ONE OF MY GUARDS…’

    The case, Hagar v. FBI, emerged when the FBI withheld the email’s ‘To’ line and its technical header, claiming that revealing the header would require them to create a new record—a task they equated with extracting alchemy from administrative fog. Hacker’s request had sent the filing cabinet into a fit of sweaty paperwork.

    The FBI’s reasoning was exquisite in its bureaucratic peculiarities: email headers aren’t plainly visible in their original form without extracting and pasting them into a new document. The agency argued that FOIA doesn’t demand it generate new materials just because metadata hides behind digital curtains.

    The court’s response? It had a different choreography in mind. The ruling affirmed that the FBI needn’t invent records where none existed. In a twist, the previously redacted ‘To’ line had already been released unredacted, rendering that part of the fight rather moot. Yet, the decision underscores a pragmatic principle—FOIA doesn’t compel agencies to copy and paste their way into new paperwork.

    This ruling matters because it illustrates a sharp boundary in how metadata requests under FOIA are treated. Headers, while crucial, don’t unravel the fabric of standard file formats without a copy-and-paste tool behaving like a modern-day scribe. This dance of document processing reinforces that metadata extraction doesn’t equate to straightforward disclosure.

    As the court cautiously sidestepped the creation of ‘new records’, it left us with a nugget of wisdom: FOIA remains an intriguing exhibit of procedural formality—a museum piece laden with absurd layers of administrative logic. The case of Hagar v. FBI joins the ranks of records replete with legalese, where every footnote appears to be doing pushups, ensuring FOIA’s procedural dance never skips a beat.

    Sources

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