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ERIC PREVEN’S NOTEBOOK - Next Tuesday, April 29 at 9:30 AM, the LA County Board of Supervisors will vote on a $4 billion sexual abuse settlement. It’s a moment of reckoning. Here's the link to the agenda.
At Wednesday’s City Council meeting, the public was not only loud, but they were also right. Over two dozen cannabis equity license holders took to the mic to decry the city's gross betrayal of its social equity program, highlighting broken promises, overdue grants, excessive fees, and militarized raids that target the compliant while illegal dispensaries flourish. At the helm of this mess? Council President Pro Tem John Lee—Staffer B himself—was steering the righteous ship while Councilmember Marqueece Harris-Dawson, the architect of much of the Department of Cannabis Regulation’s policy rot, quietly ducked out the side door. Shame, shame, shame.
The room nearly combusted when Madison Shockley, a social equity dispensary owner, snapped back at the City Attorney:
“Do I have to sing in a language you don’t understand to get my time?”
A righteous jab at the previous speaker, who had delivered a lovely, possibly off-topic Korean ballad to warm applause, without a peep of interference from the dais. That line alone forced the council to extend public comment, something that almost never happens.
A rare and necessary stand from the people. A rare and necessary standing down of the Groat police. The mic was the people's—and they used it.
Executive Director’s Report: Ethics
In Los Angeles, ethics oversight is less about catching wrongdoing and more about determining who’s allowed to ignore it professionally.
Last month, the Ethics Commission got 53 complaints. They tossed 29 immediately as “outside our jurisdiction.” That’s not oversight—that’s a rejection pile with a city seal.
Even Robert Stern, the man who wrote the Political Reform Act, made the mistake of thinking the Commission could waive its own attorney-client privilege. “It’s our privilege to waive,” he offered politely.
Cue Renee Stadel, City Attorney in Residence: “Actually, it’s the Council’s privilege.”
Ding ding ding. A visible shudder rippled across the room. That wasn’t ethics; that was a live demonstration of municipal dominance.
Then, in classic fashion, they left me—America’s favorite commenter—on hold. Never took my comment. Apparently, watchdogs are outside the jurisdiction, too.
Meanwhile, Kevin de León was penalized—lightly—for forgetting to disclose his moonlit mingling with USC and—ding ding ding—AIDS Healthcare Foundation. He only got a 25% fine. A steep discount for violating the public trust, but not steep steep—that’s reserved for loyalty members.
Coming soon: John Lee, facing a June 2 hearing for alleged misuse of authority. Samuel Leung, scheduled for October, reportedly slipped developers through City Planning like it was a TSA pre-check line.
And let’s not pretend the County’s any better. Supervisor Lindsey Horvath is practically co-sponsoring brunches with AHF. Ding ding ding. Would love to see that disclosure form.
Smart Speaker: How about one Ethics Commission? City, County, Metro. Same rules. Same investigators. Fewer excuses. And hey, we can cut some redundant positions while we’re at it. Because in LA, “outside jurisdiction” is how insiders stay inside—and the public stays out.
The Fable of the Withered Field
(Cannabis, Kings, and the Collapse of a Promise)
Once upon a time, in a city that claimed to lead, the rulers promised a harvest of justice. “Come forth,” they said, “plant your seeds in our new green fields. Follow our rules, pay your taxes, and we shall protect you. This is equity. This is your chance.”
So, the people came — the dreamers, the survivors, the ones once locked out or locked up. They filled out scrolls, stood in lines, and spent their savings. They waited months for permission, years for support.
They called it the Department of Cannabis Regulation.
But the people came to call it something else: Dead, Corrupt, and Ruthless.
The promised equity never arrived. The support? Lost in endless paperwork.
The illegal fields — fast, untaxed, and unbothered — flourished.
And the legal farmers? Fined. Penalized. Bled dry.
They cried out: “We followed the law! We built this industry! Why are we the ones being crushed?”
But the King had vanished, off to chase his next kingdom.
The ministers hid behind closed doors. One claimed he was for the people, then disappeared when they arrived.
The court tried to silence the uprising, but the people kept speaking. Louder. Sharper.
Across the sea, another betrayal. A small nation stood its ground against a great beast. They were promised support. Then offered a deal that gave their land away. “Take this and be quiet,” said the emperor. “We’re tired of your struggle.”
The farmers understood. Whether by land or law, betrayal wears the same face.
And the moral was this: When the field is rigged, the harvest rots. When equity becomes empty ceremony, the people revolt. And when a department forgets who it serves, it must be disbanded.
Cannabis equity without reform is exploitation.
Market stabilization without enforcement is a joke.
Disband the DCR. Start over.
And this time, build it for the people who kept the promise.
Staffing Up While Cutting Down
Rick Cole, Change Agent and Chief Deputy Controller, City of Los Angeles
Controller Kenneth Mejia made history. He was the first CPA to serve as City Controller and the first Filipino elected official in LA. A progressive icon with a calculator. But lately? He’s sounding more like a budget illusionist than a truth-teller.
On social media, he blasted out 🚨 "MAYOR’S PROPOSED BUDGET" with a slick chart asking: What percent of job positions would departments lose or gain if the budget is approved as is? Then came the list of biggest losers: Youth Development down 47 percent. Disability down 37 percent. City Planning cut 33 percent. Animal Services slashed 32 percent. Civil, Human Rights, and Equity—gone by 30 percent. Transportation? Chopped by 24 percent.
Housing cuts during a housing crisis. Planning cuts before the Olympics. This isn’t belt-tightening — it’s bone-saw budgeting.
But what really sent people over the edge? Mejia’s claim that the Mayor’s office and City Council would see zero staff cuts. As if both were lean machines.
The public raged. Emojis flew. But the smarter watchdogs — and we’re talking slightly above average — caught something deeper.
Those “94” and “108” staff counts? Pure fiction. Not wrong, just misleading by omission. Mejia, who once tracked LAPD overtime from the sidewalk, now wears the controller’s badge and conveniently dodges any real scrutiny of his own empire—or his progressive pals in power.
We did what Mejia didn’t. We checked every district, pulled every staff list, and counted. The Mayor’s actual staff? 263. The City Council? 391.
That’s 654 real people doing City Hall work — not the 202 Mejia reported.
How’d he do it? Simple. He only counted budgeted FTEs — full-time equivalents on paper — and ignored at-will hires, political appointees, part-time non-benefitted workers, grant-funded positions, field reps, caseworkers, housing staff, and the Inside Safe armies.
This is the kind of Orwellian shiftiness Mejia is now known for. He’s so smart! Spit take.
This is the same guy who used to lurk around police protests, spreadsheeting LAPD excesses. But now that he’s inside the gates? LAPD and LAFD face zero staff cuts. Classic Mejia: radical until power is real. Then, retreat.
And of course, he doesn’t want to talk about the Council’s real numbers. Or the Mayor’s. Or, God forbid, his own. His office? 159 staff strong. Down a whole two from last year. 🙄
The chart he posted wasn’t informative. It was stagecraft. Designed to make it look like sacrifices were shared, when in fact, the insiders are staffing up while everyone else gets gutted.
The entire budget? One item. A matryoshka of 800 amendments stuffed into a single vote.
We didn’t guess. We read the directories. We cross-checked the titles. CD9? No transparency — Curren Price is under DA investigation, so we counted heads in a staff photo.
A commenter nailed it: “Fourth largest economy in the world and these idiots are broke. I see the 94 workers in the Mayor’s office are safe.”
Correction: It’s a lot more than 94. And yes, they’re very safe.
Transparency isn’t a vibe. It’s a duty. And right now, we’re getting budget cosplay from a controller who built his brand on exposing the very thing he’s now obscuring.
The gap is the story. Bar graph: Left bar "Reported by Mejia" = 94 (Mayor), 108 (Council). Right bar "Actual Staff Count" = 263 (Mayor), 391 (Council).
(Eric Preven is a Studio City-based TV writer-producer, award-winning journalist, and longtime community activist who won two landmark open government cases in California.)
