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I spoke to two groups in recent weeks, and people at both gatherings wanted to know about the work of the organization I lead, the Iowa Freedom of Information Council.

If I had known then what I know now, I could have been more effective. I could have advised them to wait a week or two and watch the news surrounding the arrest of Ian Roberts, superintendent of the Des Moines Public Schools since 2023, for an illustration of how secrecy breeds distrust.

Last Friday, federal immigration officers took the 54-year-old administrator into custody, ostensibly to enforce a final removal order a federal immigration judge issued in May 2024. Roberts’ biographical information on his employer’s website says he grew up in Brooklyn, N.Y., the son of immigrants from the South American nation of Guyana. As of Monday, authorities were holding Roberts in a Sioux City jail pending deportation.

During decades as a journalist, I had countless conversations with interesting people — future presidents, wannabe leaders, governors, business executives, religious thinkers, crooks, and ordinary folks who made a difference in their own corner of the world.

With soldiers headed to our cities and chaos in our nation, now is a good time to remember one difference-maker. My memories of Wade Meloan remain sharp almost 50 years after I met the retired druggist in the Mississippi River town of Oquawka, Ill., just upriver from Burlington.

On my first trip to Oquawka, I quickly learned it was no secret Wade had a much younger girlfriend. She was 30. Wade was 65. Her name was Norma Jean.

Government regulates business to protect the health, safety and welfare of the public. That is the theory behind enacting and enforcing regulations, and it is a commendable mission.

But, too often the regulators seemingly do not want the people they are supposed to protect to know which businesses fall short of the minimum expectations spelled out by these regulations. The regulators seemingly do not want people to know when and how businesses fail to meet the baseline standards.

Each time that happens, the mission of government regulations fails the public.

Iowa Capital Dispatch and its investigative reporter Clark Kauffman recently shined their spotlight on what appears as another lapse by regulators to remember they work on behalf of the people of Iowa and that disclosures of their findings serve the public interest.

Lyman Dillon resides in the dusty recesses of Iowa history for his role in 1839 in one of Iowa’s earliest infrastructure projects.

Dillon’s work also figures indirectly in a modern-day lesson on how NOT to run a government.

This how-not-to-do-it tutorial occurred last week during a Jones County Board of Supervisors meeting. A similar lesson is playing out in Storm Lake to a growing audience of discontented residents there.

Andy McKean is a charming country lawyer from Anamosa. He grew up in New York and was drawn to Iowa by his family roots.

He has owned a bed-and-breakfast, called square dances and played in a dance band named the Scotch Grove Pioneers. His tenure in the Iowa Legislature stretched for nearly 30 years, with an additional eight years shoehorned in as a Jones County supervisor.

A few weeks ago, McKean spoke to a group of grassroots community organizers from eastern Iowa who gathered in Monticello to brainstorm. He provided pointers gleaned from his years in public service, politics, campaigning, promising and compromising.

One choice nugget was his go-to strategy in those roles — listening more than talking.

By Randy Evans

One longtime truism of journalism is “Names make news.”

That shorthand stems from the fact people better understand the significance and context of news when they learn about events and issues through the eyes and experiences of people they know or with whom they can identify.

The late Iowa Supreme Court Justice Mark McCormick described the importance of this news tenet by noting how disclosing even sensitive private facts and names offers “a personalized frame of reference to which the reader could relate, fostering perception and understanding” and lends “specificity and credibility.”

Here are two heartbreaking examples from recent events:

First, while news reports in the last week focused on the 125+ people who died and some 150 others who remain missing after flash floods swept through the hill country of central Texas, the magnitude of the loss hits harder when you put names with the grim statistics.

Names like 8-year-old twins Hanna and Rebecca Lawrence, who died at Camp Mystic, a summertime haven for girls; camp counselor Claire Childress, 18, who lost her life trying to protect young campers; Richard Eastland, 70, the camp director, who gave his life while trying to save the young girls who filled the camp’s picturesque cabins; and sisters Blair and Brooke Harber, ages 13 and 11, whose bodies were found 15 miles downriver, still holding hands, after being swept from their grandparents’ vacation cabin. The grandparents, Mike and Charlene Harber, 76 and 74, died, too.

Second, and closer to home, Pascual Pedro, 20, of West Liberty gave Iowans a heart-wrenching names-make-news lesson about the impact of the federal government’s push to deport undocumented immigrants.

Several dozen people gathered last Saturday in Monticello for a citizen workshop the Grassroots Iowa Network organized to get more everyday Iowans engaged in the political process.

They spent the day listening to speakers* and exchanging ideas and observations, without fear or reprisal. They lunched and learned.

Former officeholders and current office-seekers were there, too. So were people who have spent countless hours working on issues or on behalf of candidates.

Although there were no knee britches or tri-corner hats in sight, our nation’s Founders were there in spirit. The Founders would take comfort knowing those Iowans were exercising liberties so important that they stitched them into our Constitution in the First Amendment — the rights to freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion, the right to assemble peaceably, and the right to petition our government for a redress of grievances.

If an opinionated old guy from southern Iowa delivered the recent commencement address at the United States Military Academy, my message would have contrasted with the one given by another opinionated old guy, one from Queens, N.Y., by way of the White House.

When I was a newspaper editor, I sometimes told the staff they needed to run a belt sander across an article to remove rough spots before publication. So it was with Donald Trump’s speech to 1,000 new Army second lieutenants at West Point a week ago. His staff needed to take the Oval Office belt sander to his message.

The West Point graduates are embarking on military careers that will disrupt their family life and may end in death or crippling injury. The president was on the mark when he thanked them for their willingness to sacrifice to protect the safety and security of our nation.

But these young men and women deserved more facts and serious reflection, fewer half-truths, less fiction, and no campaign rhetoric. These new officers and their families did not gather on the highlands above the Hudson River to hear about trophy wives and “the late great Alphonse Capone.” (Inexplicably, our president talked about both.)