InvestigateWest

Oct 18, 2024 | invw.org | Kaylee Tornay

By Kaylee Tornay/InvestigateWest In the last year and a half, Danielle Del Prado has spent hours on the phone with banks around the country, trying to convince them that she didn’t want to borrow money. Her credit report says otherwise. At a Portland credit union, she found an $8,000 loan in her name. Another $8,000 loan and a $3,000 line of credit was opened at a different bank in Washington. And a bank affiliated with the Lac Du Flambeau Tribe in Wisconsin lent her $350.

Oct 16, 2024 | invw.org | Whitney Bryen

By Whitney Bryen / InvestigateWestMost states inspect county jails annually to ensure the health and safety of people locked inside. Idaho doesn’t. Instead, jail inspections are voluntary. And they’re conducted by the Idaho Sheriffs’ Association — a nonprofit designed to advocate for the sheriffs who oversee those jails. The sheriffs’ association, which is exempt from state public records law, denied InvestigateWest’s request for inspection reports.

Oct 12, 2024 | invw.org | Whitney Bryen

By Whitney Bryen / InvestigateWest Benewah County Jail, a small 16-bed facility in North Idaho, doesn’t have enough deputies to watch its detainees. In central Idaho’s Custer County, emergency dispatchers squeeze checks-ins of jail detainees between calls. To the south, in Twin Falls County, jail detainees wait weeks for needed medications, often never receiving them at all.

Oct 11, 2024 | invw.org | Wilson Criscione

By Wilson Criscione / InvestigateWest After two human trafficking victims filed complaints claiming they were exploited by an Idaho nonprofit, the state’s victim assistance agency kept sending the organization money. And after InvestigateWest published a series of articles describing how the organization, Community Outreach Behavioral Services, lured human trafficking victims into what experts described as a likely Medicaid fraud scheme, the state kept giving COBS money.

Oct 10, 2024 | invw.org | Paul Kiefer

By Paul Kiefer / InvestigateWest On a Tuesday evening in early July, Klickitat County Sheriff Bob Songer sat at the head of a small conference room along with about a dozen members of his posse. One — a young wildland firefighter — was affectionately called “the big man.” Another was a gun dealer in his early 80s.