In reference to my previous post on the Hope Florida money trail, there is one defense from Florida officials that deserves a closer examination because, on its face, it sounds compelling: if the Hope Florida affair really involved fraud, corruption or the misuse of taxpayer money, why didn’t the grand jury indict anyone? In that earlier piece, I traced how $10 million connected to Florida’s $67 million Medicaid settlement with Centene went to the Hope Florida Foundation—the charitable arm associated with First Lady Casey DeSantis’ signature initiative—then through two nonprofits and ultimately into political organizations advancing Gov. Ron DeSantis’ agenda. I also raised the question of whether Vice President JD Vance’s highly publicized anti-fraud crusade would be applied with the same intensity when allegations involving public health-care money lead into the political orbit of a powerful Republican governor. But the absence of indictments presents a separate question, and former Republican congressman and Democratic gubernatorial nominee David Jolly offered an important answer during an appearance with Jen Psaki on MSNOW: you cannot fairly evaluate the lack of indictments without examining why the grand jury said it was unable to indict anyone. The jury did not investigate the transaction and conclude that nothing improper happened. According to the leaked report, it concluded that $10 million in taxpayer money had been “misappropriated,” called the diversion part of a “sophisticated scheme to fund political activities,” and nevertheless found insufficient evidence to charge a particular person criminally because investigators could not establish who made the critical decision to send the money to Hope Florida.
That distinction changes the entire meaning of the “no indictments” defense. There is an enormous difference between a grand jury saying, we examined what happened and found no wrongdoing, and a grand jury saying, we found wrongdoing but cannot establish which individual can be criminally charged for it. The latter is much closer to what the Hope Florida report says. The grand jury concluded that the entire Centene settlement represented taxpayer reimbursement and rejected the characterization that the disputed $10 million was simply some extra “bonus” that could be directed elsewhere. It identified the decision to send that money to Hope Florida as the original misappropriation. But when jurors attempted to determine who actually made that decision, they encountered a remarkable problem: according to the report, “Nobody will take responsibility” for deciding that the $10 million would go to Hope Florida, and witnesses either could not identify or did not remember who made the decision. The jury therefore found itself in the unusual position of saying it could see that taxpayer money had been misused for political purposes while being unable to establish who, individually, could be prosecuted for causing it to happen.
That is not a minor technical distinction. Criminal prosecution requires prosecutors to do more than demonstrate that something improper happened. They must connect specific conduct to specific defendants and establish the elements of a particular criminal offense. Depending on the alleged crime, that can require evidence showing who authorized an action, what that person knew, whether there was criminal intent and what role that individual played. Investigators can therefore trace money from point A through points B, C and D, establish that its ultimate disposition was improper, and still find themselves unable to prosecute if they cannot prove who ordered the crucial first step. That appears to be the fundamental problem the Hope Florida grand jury encountered. The jury’s inability to identify who made the original decision is therefore not evidence that the decision was proper. In fact, the grand jury expressly reached the opposite conclusion about the money itself. As the report put it, despite finding that the money was misappropriated, jurors found “insufficient evidence to charge anyone criminally.”
The circumstances that produced that evidentiary gap are precisely what make Jolly’s argument so significant. According to the grand jury, virtually everyone involved was a lawyer, and many witnesses said they were acting based upon the advice of other lawyers. Jurors explicitly recognized that this created an impediment to criminal prosecution. Yet the jury still concluded that it could “plainly see” taxpayer money had been misused for political purposes. That is a remarkable statement. It essentially means the grand jury believed it could identify the improper disposition of the money but could not penetrate the decision-making structure sufficiently to assign prosecutable responsibility to an individual. Rather than resolving the scandal, the absence of charges therefore leaves perhaps its most important question unanswered: Who decided that $10 million belonging to Florida taxpayers should be sent to Hope Florida in the first place?
That question becomes even more consequential when considering who reportedly never testified before the grand jury. Gov. DeSantis was not called. Then-Attorney General Ashley Moody, now a U.S. senator, was not called. James Uthmeier, who was DeSantis’ chief of staff at the time and is now Florida’s attorney general, was not called either. Yet the report concluded that Uthmeier was “in a position of authority” over officials involved in settling with Centene, and testimony identified him as having involvement in directing the money after it reached Hope Florida. His Keep Florida Clean political committee ultimately became the principal recipient of most of the disputed $10 million. The grand jury also concluded that Moody knew about the diversion plan and authorized her chief deputy to sign the settlement, although Moody says her office had no knowledge of how Hope Florida or subsequent recipients would ultimately spend the money. None of these facts establishes criminal guilt by DeSantis, Moody, Uthmeier or anyone else. But when the central reason for not bringing charges is the inability to establish who made the critical decision, the fact that several of the highest-ranking officials connected to the episode never testified is hardly irrelevant.
This is where the claim that the grand jury “cleared” everyone becomes particularly difficult to sustain. Imagine how different the situation would be if the grand jury had heard sworn testimony from every major participant, obtained all relevant communications and records, established who made the decision to direct the $10 million to Hope Florida, reconstructed what everyone knew at the time, determined whether anyone anticipated its subsequent political use, and then concluded that no crime had occurred. Such a finding would represent powerful evidence in favor of DeSantis and the officials involved. Critics would have to reckon seriously with it. But that is not what happened according to the report. Instead, investigators were left with a central decision for which nobody would accept responsibility and witnesses could not—or would not—identify a decision-maker. To take the resulting absence of charges and transform it into proof that nothing improper occurred is to omit the very reason the grand jury gave for its inability to bring charges.
Jolly’s argument goes further. Speaking with Psaki, he described a situation in which some of the officials connected to the controversy subsequently rose into even more powerful positions in Florida and federal government. Moody, who was attorney general when the settlement was approved, was later appointed by DeSantis to the United States Senate. Uthmeier moved from DeSantis’ chief of staff to attorney general. John Guard, Moody’s chief deputy, who signed the settlement despite concerns described in the grand jury report about the arrangement’s compliance with Florida law, was subsequently appointed by DeSantis to the Second District Court of Appeal. Those appointments do not prove bribery, a quid pro quo or a criminal conspiracy, and they should not be presented as if they do. But they add to the institutional problem: people connected to the underlying events have subsequently occupied some of the very positions from which Floridians might ordinarily expect governmental accountability. That is one reason Jolly says the investigation should be reopened and additional facts pursued.
And that is why independence matters so much. The issue is not that the existing grand jurors themselves should be presumed partisan, compromised or corrupt. There is no basis for making such an accusation. The issue is whether a new investigation, conducted by an independent special counsel or similarly insulated authority with the ability to pursue the unanswered questions, could reach a much more definitive conclusion. Such an investigation could seek testimony from the central officials who did not appear before the grand jury, obtain relevant communications and records, reconstruct the decision-making process surrounding the Centene settlement, determine who authorized the $10 million transfer, establish what state officials knew about its intended destination, and examine whether its subsequent movement into political organizations was anticipated or coordinated. The objective should not be to find a way to prosecute DeSantis or anyone else. It should be to obtain the answers that the first investigation was unable to obtain.
That point is important because a truly independent investigation could just as easily vindicate the officials involved. Suppose an independent special counsel obtained testimony from every central figure, established exactly who authorized the transfer and why, examined communications surrounding the settlement, followed the subsequent movement of the money, tested every legal argument offered by the administration and ultimately concluded that no individual committed a crime. That would be a substantially different—and far more powerful—finding than the one Florida has today. It would mean investigators knew who made the decisions, understood why they were made, possessed the relevant evidence and nevertheless determined that criminal prosecution was unwarranted. If an independent investigation produced that conclusion, it should carry enormous weight. The existing grand jury report cannot provide the same vindication precisely because it says the jury could not determine who made the crucial decision. The unanswered question is not incidental to its failure to indict; it is central to it.
The grand jury’s recommendations make the claim of complete exoneration even harder to reconcile with what jurors actually found. The jury recommended that Florida lawmakers establish clearer requirements governing money received by the state and impose tracking, monitoring and consequences governing how state-affiliated entities such as Hope Florida may use taxpayer dollars. That is significant. A grand jury persuaded that the entire controversy was imaginary would have little reason to recommend laws designed to prevent something similar from happening again. Instead, the jurors concluded taxpayer money had been misappropriated, said they could plainly see that it had been misused for political purposes, and then urged the Legislature to create safeguards against a recurrence. Those are the findings of a grand jury frustrated by the limits of its ability to assign criminal responsibility, not the findings of one announcing that everything was aboveboard.
DeSantis, Uthmeier, Moody and the other officials involved are nevertheless entitled to have their defenses presented fairly. DeSantis strongly disputes the grand jury’s characterization of the $10 million, saying there was “no diversion of any Medicaid funds” and describing the money as a private contribution connected to a legally sound settlement. Uthmeier calls the controversy a politically motivated witch hunt and says nobody did anything wrong. Moody says her office was only one of several agencies involved in the settlement and had no knowledge of how Hope Florida or other organizations would subsequently spend the money. Those are not arguments that should simply be brushed aside because critics distrust the officials making them. They should be tested against evidence. If the $10 million really was a private contribution rather than money owed to Florida taxpayers, establish that conclusively. If state officials properly possessed the legal authority to structure the settlement this way, demonstrate it. If the subsequent political spending was entirely disconnected from the people responsible for directing the money to Hope Florida, establish that through testimony and records. An independent investigation could ultimately substantiate those defenses.
But “nobody was indicted” cannot substitute for those answers. Attorney General Uthmeier himself had emphasized the absence of an indictment even before the report became public, saying that he had not been indicted, had not been a suspect or target and had not engaged in criminal activity. After the report emerged, he again emphasized that there was not even probable cause to proceed. Yet the grand jury’s findings complicate that argument enormously. The relevant question is not merely whether an indictment emerged at the end of the process. It is whether investigators possessed sufficient evidence to identify and prove who was responsible for conduct the grand jury itself considered improper. According to the report, they did not—and the report tells us why.
This is ultimately why Jolly’s call to reopen the investigation deserves serious consideration regardless of one’s political affiliation. Indeed, Jolly has challenged his Republican opponent for governor, Byron Donalds, to commit to doing the same. The principle should be straightforward: if public money was handled properly, an independent investigation should be capable of demonstrating that. If laws were broken, an independent investigation should identify who broke them. And if something improper occurred but falls short of criminal conduct, Floridians should still know exactly what happened and who made the decisions. Accountability is not limited to criminal indictments. Misuse of public money can raise questions of ethics, governance, statutory compliance and public trust even when prosecutors cannot prove a crime against a particular individual.
The most important question surrounding Hope Florida therefore is not simply, “Where are the indictments?” It is, “Why weren’t there indictments?” If the answer were that investigators established every important fact and found no wrongdoing, the administration would have an exceptionally strong defense. But the grand jury itself supplied a very different explanation: it found the money had been misappropriated, found that taxpayer money had been used for political purposes, could not determine who made the original decision to send it to Hope Florida, encountered witnesses who would not accept responsibility or could not remember who had done so, and recognized those evidentiary problems as an impediment to criminal prosecution. The absence of an indictment under those circumstances is a failure to establish individual criminal liability. It is not the same thing as a finding that nothing improper happened.
There is therefore a straightforward way to settle the competing narratives. Put the matter before investigative authority sufficiently independent from the people and institutions implicated in the controversy. Obtain testimony from the central decision-makers. Examine the communications and financial records. Determine who authorized the transfer. Establish what that person believed the money represented and why it was directed to Hope Florida. Determine what officials knew about its subsequent disposition. Test the administration’s legal explanation against the grand jury’s conclusion that the entire $67 million represented taxpayer reimbursement. Follow the evidence without regard to whether the result helps Democrats or Republicans. If that investigation ultimately concludes that no crime occurred, DeSantis and his allies would have something far more persuasive than the talking point they have today: a complete, independent investigation that answered the outstanding questions and cleared them.
Until then, the Hope Florida grand jury’s failure to indict should not be mistaken for vindication. In some respects, the reasons it gave for not indicting are among the strongest arguments for continuing the investigation. A grand jury concluded that $10 million belonging to taxpayers was misappropriated and ultimately used for political purposes, yet it could not establish who was criminally responsible because nobody would take responsibility for the crucial decision that put the money on that path. That finding demands caution about accusing any individual of a crime, but it also demands something more than a declaration that the case is closed. If a genuinely independent investigation hears from the principal players, obtains the missing evidence, answers the unanswered questions and still concludes that no charges are warranted, that would be meaningful vindication. Florida does not have that finding today. What it has is an unresolved question sitting at the center of $10 million in taxpayer money: who made the decision, and why? Until somebody can answer it, “no indictments” should not be the end of the Hope Florida story. It should be the beginning of the demand for an independent accounting.
