Four WW Stories Compelled Changes in How Oregon Works

Enterprise and investigative reporting reveals actions somebody wanted to hide—and the scrutiny compels the end of the status quo.

Townsend Farms. (Wesley Lapointe)

More than most years, 2020 had a knack for making people feel powerless. That's why WW is so proud of the stories we reported that changed Oregonians' lives.

Every week, we aim to produce journalism that shifts how Portland views itself. But with some stories, the results are immediate and tangible.

That might mean sending an elected official home or making a government agency cough up a document its leaders didn't want you to see. It might cause a powerful institution to abandon a practice it carried on for years. Almost always, this enterprise and investigative reporting reveals actions somebody wanted to hide—and the scrutiny compels the end of the status quo.

Are we engaging in shameless self-promotion, patting ourselves on the back? Yes. But we hope revisiting these stories also shows how journalism promotes your interests.

In a year when just keeping up with the news was a challenge, here's how we changed the landscape.

We ended the campaign of the leading candidate for Oregon secretary of state.

The story: When the year began, former House Majority Leader Jennifer Williamson (D-Portland) was on track to become Oregon's next secretary of state. As a key ally of organized labor, Williamson had the edge in a competitive Democratic primary. But beginning in January, WW started looking into Williamson's unusual spending of campaign contributions. Over eight years, Williamson frequently traveled around the world—from Germany to Hong Kong—and much of the travel was on her political action committee's dime. Over the course of one legislative session, she also spent more than $10,000 in campaign funds on food, coffee and other drinks in Salem. Her spending of donations occurred during a personal finance crunch: Williamson and her husband were paying off back taxes. That was a troubling pattern for someone seeking an office that oversees Oregon's campaign finance system.

The results: Hours before WW published the story on Feb. 10, Williamson dropped out of the race. She blamed her decision on "a baseless story that questions my integrity, that of my family, and the legal use of campaign funds. I won't allow my family to be put through this." Labor unions rallied behind another candidate: Sen. Shemia Fagan, who won the primary and general elections, and will assume office in January. Williamson, who denied any of her actions were illegal, landed Oct. 27 at the public relations firm Strategies 360, where she will serve as senior vice president of government relations. RACHEL MONAHAN and NIGEL JAQUISS.

We caused Oregon Health & Science University to stop sending its soiled linens to be washed by state prison inmates.

The story: In April, WW reported that more than 30 Oregon hospitals were relying on prisoners to do their laundry during the pandemic. The reporting revealed that inmates made roughly 60 cents an hour cleaning linens from hospitals that treated COVID-19 patients. The hospitals had contracts with Oregon Corrections Enterprises, a private-public partnership whose records are kept secret by the state. Inmates told WW they felt exploited. "I'm facing the potential of a deadly virus getting into my environment and me dying in prison," said one. "Hell, it would even be nice to have an urn of coffee down there."

The results: After WW published its story, Oregon Health & Science University, the largest research institution in the state, discontinued its contract with Oregon Corrections Enterprises. Since 1995, OHSU had sent its laundry to Oregon State Penitentiary—a maximum security prison in Salem. "The foundation on which our prison systems lie, and on which programs like laundry services operate, is antithetical to our values," OHSU president Danny Jacobs said in a statement in June. "I know the Department of Corrections is working to address these complicated matters, and I applaud those efforts, but at this moment in time, the best decision is to end this contractual relationship by transitioning this needed service to other vendors over the next several months." TESS RISKI.

We forced the Oregon Health Authority to disclose a COVID-19 outbreak at an east county berry processor.

The story: On May 27, during the first coronavirus shutdown, state health officials revealed a large COVID-19 outbreak at a workplace in Multnomah County. But the Oregon Health Authority refused to name the employer.

The following day, WW reported the employer's identity anyway—it was Townsend Farms, a sixth-generation berry grower and packer headquartered in Fairview in east Multnomah County. Townsend employed hundreds of seasonal workers and, as WW reported, some who arrived at the company's facilities in Fairview and Cornelius tested positive for the coronavirus. The outbreaks in May would grow to include 107 workers in Multnomah County and 22 in Washington County.

The results: On May 28, OHA confirmed that Townsend was indeed the company involved and pledged the health authority would immediately change its policy and, going forward, reveal the name of any employer where five or more employees tested positive. It's a pattern of OHA making public disclosures only after journalists revealed outbreaks. The state named nursing homes with COVID-19 cases only after The Oregonian published a story, and only acknowledged any childcare centers had outbreaks after WW revealed the largest one at that time. The state has yet to release the name of a mink farm with an outbreak, perhaps because no journalist has published its identity.

"The COVID-19 pandemic demands that we all rethink how we accomplish necessary tasks that are vital to our roles," director Pat Allen said when he announced the May 28 change. "OHA believes a consistent, transparent statewide approach to reporting COVID-19 cases in workplaces will give Oregonians more information to help people avoid the risks of COVID-19 infections." NIGEL JAQUISS.

We revealed the identity of a police officer accused of repeated violence.

The story: On Sept. 5, Black homeowner Elijah Warren complained to Portland riot cops that tear gas used on protesters was seeping into his Southeast Portland house. As he was speaking to a police officer, another officer cracked him behind the ear with a baton, sending Warren to the hospital. The only identification Warren had for the officer was his helmet number: 67. City officials refused to release the name of the cop assigned that helmet number. But in the following weeks, WW spoke to several longtime observers of protests, who recognized him as one of the most forceful officers patrolling demonstrations. We also examined photos of the officer. On Nov. 4, we published his name: Detective Erik Kammerer.

The results: Well before WW revealed his identity, the Portland Police Bureau had taken Kammerer off street duty, pending a city investigation. But running his name revealed new facets of the story: Records show Kammerer is a homicide detective who has repeatedly testified to grand juries in cases where a fellow officer fatally shot someone. He is currently a lead detective investigating the shooting of a Portland man by U.S. deputy marshals. In other words, an officer who investigates whether police used excessive force is himself under investigation for hitting a man in the head. At least one city official is dismayed enough to condemn Kammerer by name. "Removal from street duty is not—in my opinion—a satisfactory response to Detective Kammerer's well-documented violence toward protesters," Commissioner Chloe Eudaly told WW this month. LATISHA JENSEN.

Willamette Week’s reporting has concrete impacts that change laws, force action from civic leaders, and drive compromised politicians from public office. Support WW's journalism today.