Tonight, Fox News decided to take a swing at us. Don’t believe me? Just look at this from Laura Ingraham’s show talking about my interview with Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer. They were furious — and they’d like nothing more than for us to back down.

That’s not going to happen. And before I go further — if you value voices willing to push back, now is the time to stand with them. The only reason I can keep chasing stories, refusing to play nice, and staying independent is because of you. A subscription helps amplify the reach. A paid one keeps the lights on. Both matter more than you might realize.
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Earlier this week, someone asked if I’d applied to be one of the new media–credentialed creators in Karoline Leavitt’s Press Briefing Room. The answer is yes. Back in January, I filled out the forms, hit send, and let myself feel a rare flicker of optimism. For once, it seemed like independent media might actually get a seat at the table. I pictured walking into that room, sitting among the polished correspondents, and asking the questions that never make it past the gatekeepers — the ones that cut through the sugar coating and matter to the people watching at home, not just the political insiders in the front row.
For a moment, I thought the door might actually be open.
It wasn’t.
It didn’t take long to see the truth: this White House doesn’t want neutral voices, and it definitely doesn’t want opposing ones. It doesn’t want questions that make spokespeople squirm or push them off-script. It wants a curated stage, a safe bubble, where the same handful of reporters pass the mic to each other and everyone already knows how the story will be told.
I’m not personally bitter about not being invited in. What I am bitter about is what that decision represents — a deliberate effort to sideline, undermine, and eventually erase independent media. The goal is clear: cut off access, limit reach, and make sure only certain voices survive in the conversation.
They want us quiet.
The problem for them? I. Won’t. Shut. Up.
Because outside the White House gates, a different story is unfolding. ICE raids are happening in neighborhoods across the country — before dawn, behind closed doors, families jolted awake by chaos. People vanish into the system overnight. Neighbors stay silent out of fear. And the official response? Silence too — unless it can be spun into a victory lap.
At the same time, law firms and major media outlets are buckling under political and cultural pressure, shifting their editorial tone to keep advertisers happy or avoid crossing the wrong people. Principles have become luxuries — nice to have, until the cost is too high.
And here in D.C., my own city, there’s another unsettling development. Heavy, armored military vehicles are rolling down the streets. No announcements. No parades. No explanation. This isn’t ceremony. It’s optics. It’s intimidation.
A show of force.
And maybe more importantly — a distraction. Because when people are gawking at armored trucks, they’re not asking about the Epstein files. They’re not demanding answers about what’s been revealed — or why so much is still hidden.
Tonight, I’ll be heading out to see if that presence grows. I’ve been warned it’s risky. I’ve been told being there could make me a target. But journalism — real journalism — doesn’t live entirely behind a desk. Not in moments like this. It lives in the streets, in the places power hopes no one is watching, right where you’ve been told not to go, with a camera in hand and questions ready.
Would access to the Briefing Room help? Sure. It would put me face-to-face with power, in front of the cameras. But it’s not the only way to do the job, and it’s not the only way to tell the truth. Whether I’m in a White House chair or standing on a curb, I’ll keep reporting. I’ll keep digging. I’ll keep asking questions — whether they answer them or not.
They can ignore my requests. They can pretend independent media doesn’t matter. But they can’t erase it. They can’t erase me. And they can’t erase the people who read, watch, and support this work.
You’ve made it possible for me to keep showing up — to stand where the story is happening. And I’m telling you now: I’m not going anywhere. I will keep reporting. I will keep writing. I will keep telling the truth, even when it makes them uncomfortable. Especially when it makes them uncomfortable.
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Because the moment we stop speaking is the moment they win — and I refuse to give them that.
