Empowering Baltimore’s IG Would Restore Trust to City Government

This op-ed was originally published in Baltimore Sun.

Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott is determined to keep the public in the dark about his doings. Embarrassing information has already come to light about his primary vehicle, “a 2025 Jeep Grand Wagoneer [that] cost $163,495, making it the priciest government-issued vehicle assigned to any current mayor, governor, county executive, or county commissioner/county council in the state.” And, as a recent inspector general report notes, his office has spent nearly $900,000 on lavish office parties, food, alcohol and flowers.

It’s little wonder why his administration is maintaining that Inspector General Isabel Mercedes Cumming’s reasonable requests for information are somehow illegal and should be thrown out. Fortunately, Baltimore Councilman Mark Conway has introduced legislation that would allow the IG to serve as a co-custodian of records. In other words, Cumming would have access to the records she needs to do her job. It’s time for Scott to embrace accountability instead of obstructing access to the truth.

At every turn, Cumming has fought for transparency, accountability and the rule of law. Days after being chosen as Baltimore City’s IG in 2018, Cumming made clear that “nobody is off limits … Overtime situations, theft of time. Purchase cards. There are so many areas that need to be looked at … I love going after white-collar criminals.” At the time, then-Mayor Catherine Pugh sang her praises, saying Cumming “knows how to operate independently to be fair and just.” Maybe Pugh would not have been so effusive if she knew that Cumming would be actively investigating the mayor’s office for fraud. After media reports revealed that Pugh had cozy financial ties to the University of Maryland Medical System (UMMS), the IG’s office began to take a closer look at the city leader’s money dealings.

IG and federal investigations pulled back the curtain on a disturbing pattern: UMMS and other organizations, such as health provider Kaiser Permanente, were paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for Pugh’s “Healthy Holly” books in order to obtain lucrative contracts from the city. Pugh used the proceeds to buy a second house and illegally funnel money to her 2016 mayoral campaign. Were it not for the tireless work of watchdogs such as the IG, Pugh might have stayed in the mayor’s office for longer instead of being disgraced and serving time in federal prison.

But now, Cumming and her office are under a new and more substantive threat. In January, the mayor cut off the IG’s access to city files crucial to Cumming’s investigations into fraud. Scott claimed that Cumming “had gained unapproved and unfettered access” to confidential information, and access had been promptly removed. The truth is that this access denial has nothing to do with the law and everything to do with keeping the IG’s office on a tight leash. This move was unprecedented, considering that her office has had access to that information for the past eight years.

Cumming has wisely taken to the courts to defend her office’s independence and right to information. The Taxpayers Protection Alliance has her back, launching a billboard campaign in Baltimore championing the watchdog. However, a change to Baltimore’s charter is sorely needed to protect the IG office’s access to information. Councilman Conway rightly notes, “The fact that the IG was able to identify fraud is indicative to me that we should be opening the documentation to the IG, so she can fully identify what happened here and what we need to do to prevent it from happening in the future. There’s smoke there and we need to figure out if there’s fire.”

Conway’s proposal to make the IG a co-custodian of records would help the watchdog root out waste and restore accountability to city government. It’s time to turn the page on Baltimore’s addiction to secrecy.