I report on what happens when powerful institutions get things wrong in public — and what that means for the people who have to live with the fallout. My work lives at the intersection of law, policy, media, and public understanding: the places where official narratives start to buckle when you hold them up to the record.

Most reporters begin with people. I do too — just not first. I start with the evidence that doesn’t blink: the numbers, the policies, the institutional paper trail, the science, the decisions that shape a story long before anyone is interviewed about it. People matter deeply, but they’re also living inside the noise — shaped by fear, memory, pressure, misinformation. To understand their truth, you have to understand the system they’re reacting to. I work above the noise to see the pattern, and inside the noise to understand its consequences. The truth usually sits where those two vantage points meet.

I don’t chase headlines. I interrogate them. Give me a controversy, a claim, a press conference, or a political performance, and I’ll follow it past the talking points and into the fine print: the filings, the research methods, the historical record, the policies that quietly shape public life. Most stories start with what everyone saw. Mine start with what everyone missed.

My process is deliberate and thorough: pull the records, read the research, reconstruct the timeline, talk to the people closest to the harm, and test every public claim against the quiet, uncomfortable details underneath. I’m drawn to what gets left out — historical erasures, distorted data, blind spots that harden into narratives — and to the people who were supposed to matter but didn’t.

I use whatever tools help me navigate complex material — documents, data, archives, specialized sources — but the judgment stays human. Precision, clarity, and accountability matter more than speed. I don’t speculate, I don’t pad stories, and if a detail isn’t solid, it doesn’t go in.

True journalism isn’t defined solely by what gets covered today. It’s measured by what holds up tomorrow. Breaking news tells you what happened; lasting journalism reveals what it meant. The stories that endure aren’t the fastest — they’re the ones built with enough depth and rigor to survive hindsight. That’s the standard I work toward.

What sets my work apart is simple: I combine narrative reporting with systems analysis most newsrooms don’t have time for. I’m fluent in science, law, policy, and data — the domains where a single misunderstanding can warp an entire public conversation. I connect dots others overlook, build stories from primary evidence outward, and translate complex information into reporting that’s both accessible and airtight. Editors come to me when a story is messy, technical, politically charged, or easy to get wrong.

I work across formats — longform, audio, data-driven investigations, and deeply structured narrative reporting — and I approach each with the same standard: stories that are transparent in method and defensible in every detail. My perspective helps me catch patterns others miss, and that difference shows in the work.

This space is where that reporting lives: investigations built for people who want receipts, context, and a clear-eyed look at how power actually operates. If you’re here to look past the headline and into the machinery underneath, you’re exactly in the right place.

I hold a Master’s in Multimedia Journalism, and I’m constantly pitching deeply reported stories — while always looking for the right opportunities to contribute my work to newsrooms and investigative projects that value rigor, nuance, and accountability.

Download my resume here.