An elections worker wanted to serve her country. A stew of conspiracy theories and vitriol awaited

RENO, Nev. — One morning last month, Cari-Ann Burgess did something completely unremarkable: she stopped at a coffee shop on her way to work.

For Burgess, the top elections official in a northern Nevada county, such trips could be precarious. While she waited for a hot tea sandwich and breakfast, an older woman approached her.

“She then told me that I should be ashamed of myself — that I am a disgrace, a disgrace to Washoe County, and that I should crawl into a hole and die,” Burgess said in an interview with The Associated Press. the next day.

A morning stop at the coffee house would no longer be possible. It was added to a growing list of things Burgess no longer did because of her job. She had already stopped buying groceries and other basic necessities. Dinner was served at home. When she and her husband went out to eat or shop, they would travel an hour from their Reno neighborhood.

“I go to work, I go home and I go to church – that’s about it,” Burgess said. “I’m very careful now about where I go.”

Still, Burgess said she was looking forward to November and overseeing the presidential election with her team in Nevada’s second-most populous county. That ended one day in late September, when she was called to a meeting with provincial officials.

The province said Burgess applied for medical leave to deal with stress and her departure is seen as a personnel matter. In a statement, the province said it was “focused on conducting smooth and fair elections.”

Burgess said yes forced out after refusing to agree to personnel changes requested by the district manager’s office. She said she had repeatedly asked to stay, even providing a doctor’s note guaranteeing her health and hiring a lawyer.

Oversight of the office will now be handled by Burgess’ deputy — the fifth person in four years to lead the provincial elections operation. The entire staff is new since 2020. The turnover is a symptom of a province that is deeply divided politically and plagued by election conspiracy theories since Republican Donald Trump lost the state against Democrat Joe Biden in the 2020 presidential election.

Burgess told the AP last week in her first public comments since her abrupt departure that she was worried about her team and didn’t know what to do next. She even postponed voting, saying it was a reminder that she was no longer part of a process she loves.

“I gave 110% of who I was and who I am to this job. And then all of a sudden I’m gone and I don’t understand,” Burgess said as she considered her next steps. “I don’t understand how we got to this point.”

AP journalists were in Reno in September, a week before her departure, and spent several days with Burgess, including time at the Washoe County elections office and at her home. Like with that one who preceded herBurgess and her staff found themselves in a pressure cooker, receiving biting criticism at public meetings and having to respond conspiracy-fueled claims about voting machines, mailboxes and voter lists.

Dealing with members of the elected provincial committee who distrusted the elections made the job even more difficult.

Burgess was an extreme example of the kinds of challenges facing local election officials in the United States after four years of false claims that have undermined public confidence in elections and those who run them. Election workers have had to deal with it intimidation and even death threats and have taken additional safety measures this year, including adding bulletproof glass and panic buttons.

During the three days the AP spent with Burgess, she gave no indication that she planned to leave her job. She talked in detail about how she dealt with the stress for herself, her family and her staff.

“I didn’t think I’d be in a place where I am today – so central and a hotbed for this election, but I’m grateful,” Burgess said, sitting in her living room and surrounded by inspiring Bible passages and Christian symbols. “I am grateful for the opportunity. I am grateful to be able to serve my country again.”

On the wall hung a decorative sign that read: “God doesn’t give us what we can handle, God helps us handle what we get.”

At home on a Friday evening, Burgess sat down at the table with her husband and a close friend whom she considers a brother. Her husband’s prayer during the meal included a request to keep Burgess and her team safe.

“I had no idea what we were getting into, but I know this is something that is very important to Cari. She loves her job,” Shane Burgess said after dinner was over. “Sometimes I want to join the fight, but I know she can handle herself.”

Later, Burgess and her husband discussed plans for the weekend. Burgess wanted to take her husband, a baseball fan, to see Reno’s minor league team, the Aces, play before the season was over.

“Not when you’re getting yelled at,” Shane Burgess told his wife as they sat next to each other in matching armchairs.

Burgess tried to reassure her husband: “I can wear a hat.”

Ultimately they decided not to go.

The Washoe County elections office is located in a complex of government buildings a few miles north of downtown Reno. Burgess’ office was decorated before she left with American flags, a copy of the U.S. Constitution and red, white and blue decorative stars that read Liberty, Liberty and America.

“Election heroes work here,” read a sign outside her office door.

She was the fourth person to lead the Washoe County elections office since 2020 and was appointed interim registrar of voters by the county commission in a 3-2 vote in January. Although her entire office was new, Burgess said she was impressed with how well the staff had performed amid all the pressures of working in a high-stress environment.

“I have great employees who all do their part and do their jobs to perfection,” said Burgess.

In parts of the US, local election officials are exhausted by the intimidation and demands of their jobs retired or left the profession whole. Even Burgess had stopped working in elections after she was publicly harassed by people angry that Trump had lost the 2020 election, even though he had easily won the Minnesota county where she worked at the time.

After that election, she moved to North Carolina and was working at a beachside ice cream parlor when she felt called to return to the polls while watching fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“I was like, I can’t serve my country the way I have,” she said. “And now that I have experienced the elections and know the elections, I think: that is something I can work on again. I can do elections again.”

Arriving in Washoe County, where the Sierra Nevada meets the high desert, Burgess encountered a county embroiled in voting-related conspiracy theories.

Meetings in the county are often extended by members of the public who oppose Burgess’ hiring and want the county to count votes because they don’t trust the voting equipment.

“It feels like you’re on the front line, but it’s a different front line. It is the front line of democracy – not the front line of battle,” Burgess said. “But the way the country is divided right now, it feels like a fight because you’re fighting disinformation every day.”

Burgess said a committee vote earlier this year to refuse to certify two state election recounts damaged morale in the elections office. Afterward, she said, two staffers were in tears. There were no significant problems during the vote and no errors in the counting of votes, she said. Now under increasing public pressure, the committee finally relented voted to certify.

Every morning when office assistant Shawna Johnson arrives, she updates the whiteboard with the latest early voting countdowns and Election Day on November 5. On this day it was 28 days and 45 days respectively.

She also makes sure to add one more: “95 days until Christmas.”

“We know what our focus is: It’s early voting and then Election Day,” Johnson said. “But you have to look forward to what happens next. We will be able to return to our normal lives, our regular working hours, being at home with our families and celebrating holidays.”

A few days before her departure, Burgess had hired a consultant to provide training to staff on how to manage stress. This also included the importance of taking regular breaks, getting enough sleep and building a support network of friends and family.

“Recognizing that I have trauma from 2020 and that I have the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), I don’t want that to happen to my team,” Burgess said. “They deserve better. They deserve to know how to take care of themselves.”

At one point, Burgess reminded her team to take some time off because everyone would be working weekends starting the first week of October.

Privately, Burgess acknowledged that time off for her staff would likely mean more work for her. In the two months before the election, she expected to work 13 hours a day.

“If they can’t be there, I have to be there,” Burgess said. “There are just so many things that need to be done before an election.”

One of the many things Burgess had to do was improve security at the elections office.

Across the country, personal safety and the security of election offices have become top concerns amid threats and intimidation of election workers.

Shortly after Burgess said she was harassed at the coffee shop, she had a tour to discuss security measures that needed to be implemented before the November election. One of the recommendations was to place a film over glass windows that can slow bullets, but not stop them.

“Then I realized that I have a much more dangerous job than I actually expected. It should never be this way,” Burgess said.

For the most part, Burgess said she kept these concerns to herself. She said she wanted to keep her team focused on organizing smooth and safe elections. This included ensuring that poll workers were properly trained.

On the day of the coffee shop incident, Burgess recalled that after she finished work, she closed her office door and turned off the lights. She sat on the couch in her office and prayed for comfort and strength.

“I could go somewhere else where it’s a lot easier,” Burgess said. “I could completely withdraw from the elections. That’s not in me. It’s not in me to leave behind something I love.”

Less than a week later, she was gone and, she said, a decision had been made for her. And Washoe County would once again put someone else in charge of elections.

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