Most Medicaid recipients already have jobs and such a mandate would only kick eligible people off Medicaid, rather than improve their economic prospects.

This article was published on Tuesday, April 15, 2025 in KFF Health News.

By Sam Whitehead and Phil Galewitz and Katheryn Houghton

For many years, Eric Wunderlin's health issues made it hard to find stable employment.

Struggling to manage depression and diabetes, Wunderlin worked part-time, minimum-wage retail jobs around Dayton, Ohio, making so little he said he sometimes had to choose between paying rent and buying food.

But in 2018, his CareSource Medicaid health plan offered him help getting a job. It connected him to a life coach, who helped him find full-time work with health benefits. Now, he works for a nonprofit social service agency, a job he said has given him enough financial stability to plan a European vacation next year.

"I feel like a real person and I can go do things," said Wunderlin, 42. "I feel like I pulled myself out of that slump."

Republicans in Congress and several states, including Ohio, Iowa, and Montana, are pushing to implement work requirements for nondisabled adults, arguing a mandate would encourage enrollees to find jobs. And for Republicans pushing to require Medicaid enrollees to work, Wunderlin's story could be held up as evidence that government health coverage can help people find employment and, ultimately, reduce their need for public assistance.

Yet his experience is rare. Medicaid typically does not offer such help, and when states do try to help, such efforts are limited.

And opponents point out that most Medicaid recipients already have jobs and say such a mandate would only kick eligible people off Medicaid, rather than improve their economic prospects. Nearly two-thirds of Medicaid enrollees work, with most of the rest acting as caregivers, going to school, or unable to hold a job due to disability or illness, according to KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News.

Existing efforts to help Medicaid recipients get a job have seen limited success because there's not a lot of "room to move the needle," said Ben Sommers, a professor of healthcare economics at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. Most Medicaid enrollees already work — just not in jobs with health benefits, he said.

"The ongoing argument that some folks make is that there are a lot of people freeloading in Medicaid," he said. "That's just not supported by the evidence."

Using Health Programs to Encourage Work

The GOP-controlled Congress could allow or require states to implement a Medicaid work requirement as part of revamping and downsizing Medicaid. The first Trump administration encouraged those work mandates, but many were struck down by federal judges who said they were illegal under federal law.

Policy experts and state officials say more attention should be paid to investments that have helped people find better jobs — from personalized life coaching to, in some cases, health plans' directly hiring enrollees.

They argue work requirements alone are not enough. "The move to economic mobility requires a ladder, not a stick," said Farah Khan, a fellow with the Brookings Institution, a nonpartisan think tank.

While Medicaid work requirements have been debated for decades, the issue has become more heated as 40 states and Washington, D.C., have expanded Medicaid eligibility under the Affordable Care Act to the vast majority of low-income adults. More than 20 million adults have gained coverage as a result — but Republicans are now considering eliminating the billions in extra federal funding that helped states extend eligibility beyond groups including many children, pregnant women, and disabled people.

Only Georgia and Arkansas have implemented mandates that some Medicaid enrollees work, volunteer, go to school, or enroll in job training. But a study Sommers co-authored showed no evidence work requirements in Arkansas' program led to more people working, in part because most of those who could work already were.

In Arkansas, more than 18,000 people lost coverage under the state's requirement before the policy was suspended by a federal judge in 2019 after less than a year. Those who lost their Medicaid healthcare reported being unaware or confused about how to report work hours. Since 2023, Arkansas has been giving Medicaid health plans financial incentives to help enrollees train for jobs, but so far few have taken advantage.

Some plans, including Arkansas Blue Cross and Blue Shield's, offer members $25 to $65 to complete a "career readiness" certificate. In 2024, some Arkansas health plans offered enrollees educational videos about topics including taxes and cryptocurrency.

Health plans don't have an incentive to help someone find a better-paying job, because that could mean losing a customer if they then make too much to qualify for Medicaid, said Karin VanZant, a vice president at Clearlink Partners, a healthcare consulting company.

Rather than offering incentives for providing job training, some states, such as California and Ohio, require the insurance companies that run Medicaid to help enrollees find work.

In Montana, where some lawmakers are pushing to implement work requirements, a promising optional program nearly collapsed after state lawmakers required it be outsourced to private contractors.

Within the program's first three years, the state paired 32,000 Medicaid enrollees with existing federally funded job training programs. Most had higher wages a year after starting training, the state found.

But enrollment has plummeted to just 11 people, according to the latest data provided by the state's labor department.

Sarah Swanson, who heads the department, said several of the nonprofit contractors that ran the program shuttered. "There was no real part in this for us to deliver direct services to the folks that walked through our door," she said. The state hopes to revive job training by allowing the department to work alongside contractors to reach more people.

The Hunt for Results

State officials say they don't have much data to track the effectiveness of existing job programs offered by Medicaid plans.

Stephanie O'Grady, a spokesperson for the Ohio Department of Medicaid, said the state does not track outcomes because "the health plans are not employment agencies."

Officials with CareSource, which operates Medicaid plans in multiple states, say it has about 2,300 Medicaid and ACA marketplace enrollees in its JobConnect program — about 1,400 in Ohio, 500 in Georgia, and 400 in Indiana.

The program connects job seekers with a life coach who counsels them on skills such as "showing up on time, dressing the part for interviews, and selling yourself during the interview," said Jesse Reed, CareSource's director of life services in Ohio.

Since 2023, about 800 people have found jobs through the program, according to Josh Boynton, a senior vice president at CareSource. The health plan itself has hired 29 Medicaid enrollees into customer service, pharmacy, and other positions — nearly all full-time with benefits, he said.

In 2022, California started offering nontraditional health benefits through Medicaid — including help finding jobs — for enrollees experiencing homelessness or serious mental illness, or who are otherwise at risk of avoidable emergency room care. As of September, it had served nearly 280,000 enrollees, but the state doesn't have data on how many became employed.

The University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, which is among the largest private employers in Pennsylvania, running both a sprawling hospital system and a Medicaid plan, has hired over 10,000 of its Medicaid enrollees since 2021 through its training and support services. Among other jobs, they took positions as warehouse workers, customer service representatives, and medical assistants.

The vast majority left low-paying jobs for full-time positions with health benefits, said Dan LaVallee, a senior director of UPMC Health Plan's Center for Social Impact. "Our Pathways to Work program is a model for the nation," he said.

Josh Archambault, a senior fellow with the conservative Cicero Institute, said Medicaid should focus on improving the financial health of those enrolled.

While the first Trump administration approved Medicaid work requirements in 13 states, the Biden administration or federal judges blocked all except Georgia's.

"I don't think states have been given ample chance to experiment and try to figure out what works," Archambault said.

KFF Health News senior correspondent Angela Hart contributed to this report.

Sam Whitehead: swhitehead@kff.org

Phil Galewitz: pgalewitz@kff.org, @philgalewitz

Katheryn Houghton: khoughton@kff.org, @K_Hought

Nearly 3 million Americans live sicker, shorter lives in the hundreds of rural counties where doctor shortages are the worst and poor internet connections mean little or no access to telehealth services.

This article was published on Wednesday, April 9, 2025 in KFF Health News.

By Sarah Jane Tribble and Holly K. Hacker and Caresse Jackman, InvestigateTV

EUTAW, Ala. — Leroy Walker arrived at the county hospital short of breath. Walker, 65 and with chronic high blood pressure, was brought in by one of rural Greene County's two working ambulances.

Nurses checked his heart activity with a portable electrocardiogram machine, took X-rays, and tucked him into Room 122 with an IV pump pushing magnesium into his arm.

"I feel better," Walker said. Then: Beep. Beep. Beep.

The Greene County Health System, with only three doctors, has no intensive care unit or surgical services. The 20-bed hospital averages a few patients each night, many of them, like Walker, with chronic illnesses.

Greene County residents are some of the sickest in the nation, ranking near the top for rates of stroke, obesity, and high blood pressure, according to data from the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Patients entering the hospital waiting area encounter floor tiles that are chipped and stained from years of use. A circular reception desk is abandoned, littered with flyers and advertisements.

But a less visible, more critical inequity is working against high-quality care for Walker and other patients: The hospital's internet connection is a fraction of what experts say is sufficient. High-speed broadband is the new backbone of America's health care system, which depends on electronic health records, high-tech wireless equipment, and telehealth access.

Greene is one of more than 200 counties with some of the nation's worst access to not only reliable internet, but also primary care providers and behavioral health specialists, according to a KFF Health News analysis. Despite repeated federal promises to support telehealth, these places remain disconnected.

During his first term, President Donald Trump signed an executive order promising to improve "the financial economics of rural healthcare" and touted "access to high-quality care" through telehealth. In 2021, President Joe Biden committed billions to broadband expansion.

KFF Health News found that counties without fast, reliable internet and with shortages of health care providers are mostly rural. Nearly 60% of them have no hospital, and hospitals closed in nine of the counties in the past two decades, according to data collected by the Cecil G. Sheps Center for Health Services Research at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.

Residents in these "dead zone" counties tend to live sicker and die younger than people in the rest of the United States, according to KFF Health News' analysis. They are places where systemic poverty and historical underinvestment are commonplace, including the remote West, Appalachia, and the rural South.

"It will always be rural areas with low population density and high poverty that are going to get attended to last," said Stephen Katsinas, director of the Education Policy Center at the University of Alabama. "It's vital that the money we do spend be well deployed with a thoughtful plan."

Now, after years of federal and state planning, Biden's $42 billion Broadband Equity Access and Deployment, or BEAD, program, which was approved with bipartisan support in 2021, is being held up, just as states — such as Delaware — were prepared to begin construction. Trump's new Department of Commerce secretary, Howard Lutnick, has demanded "a rigorous review" of the program and called for the elimination of regulations.

Trump's nominee to lead the federal agency overseeing the broadband program, Arielle Roth, repeatedly said during her nomination hearing in late March that she would work to get all Americans broadband "expeditiously." But when pressed by senators, Roth declined to provide a timeline for the broadband program or confirm that states would receive promised money.

Instead, Roth said, "I look forward to reviewing those allocations and ensuring the program is compliant with the law."

Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-Wash.), the Senate commerce committee's ranking minority member, said she wished Roth had been more committed to delivering money the program promised.

The political wrangling in Washington is unfolding hundreds of miles from Greene County, where only about half of homes have high-speed internet and 36% of the population lives below the poverty line, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Walker has lived his life in Alabama's Black Belt and once worked as a truck driver. He said his high blood pressure emerged when he was younger, but he didn't take the medicine doctors prescribed. About 11 years ago, his kidneys failed. He now needs dialysis three times a week, he said.

While lying in the hospital bed, Walker talked about his dialysis session the day before, on his birthday. As he talked, the white sheet covering his arm slipped and revealed where the skin around his dialysis port had swollen to the size of a small grapefruit.

Room 122, where Walker rested, is sparse with a single hospital bed, a chair, and a TV mounted on the wall. He was connected to the IV pump, but no other tubes or wires were attached to him. The IV machine's beeping echoed through the hallway outside. Staffers say they must listen for the high-pitched chirps because the internet connection at the hospital is too slow to support a modern monitoring system that would display alerts on computers at the nurses' station.

Aaron Brooks, the hospital's technology consultant, said financial challenges keep Greene County from buying monitoring equipment. The hospital reported a $2 million loss on patient care in its most recent federal filing. Even if Greene could afford a system, it does not have the thousands of dollars to install a high-speed fiber-optic internet connection necessary to operate it, he said.

Lacking central monitoring, registered nurse Teresa Kendrick carries a portable pulse oximeter device, she said — like ones sold at drugstores that surged in popularity during the covid-19 pandemic.

Doing her job means a "continuous spot-check," Kendrick said. Another longtime nurse described her job as "a lot of watching and checking."

Beep. Beep.

The beeping in Room 122 persisted for more than two minutes as Walker talked. He wasn't in pain — he was just worried about the beeping.

About 50 paces down the hall — past the pharmacy, an office, and another patient room — registered nurse Jittaun Williams sat at her station behind plexiglass. She was nearly 20 minutes past the end of her 12-hour shift and handing off to the three night-shift nurses.

They discussed plans for patients' care, reviewing electronic records and flipping through paper charts. The nurses said the hospital's internal and external computer systems are slow. They handwrite notes on paper charts in a patient's room and duplicate records electronically. "Our system isn't strong enough. There are many days you kind of sit here and wait," Williams said.

Broadband dead zones like Greene County persist despite decades of efforts by federal lawmakers that have created a patchwork of more than 133 funding programs across 15 agencies, according to a 2023 federal report.

Alabama's leaders, like others around the U.S., are actively spending federal funds from the Biden-era American Rescue Plan Act, according to public records. And Greene County Hospital is on the list of places waiting for ARPA construction, according to agreements provided by the Alabama Department of Economic and Community Affairs.

"It is taking too long, but I am patient," said Alabama state Sen. Bobby Singleton, a Democrat who represents the district that includes Greene County Hospital and two others he said lack fast-enough connectivity. Speed bumps such as a need to meet federal requirements and a "big fight" to get internet service providers to come into his rural district slowed the release of funds, Singleton said.

Alabama received its first portion of ARPA funds in June 2021, which Singleton said included money for building fiber-optic cables to anchor institutions like the hospital. Alabama's awards require the projects to be completed by February 2026 — nearly five years after money initially flowed to the state.

Singleton said he now sees fiber lines being built in his district every day and knows the hospital is "on the map" to be connected. "This doesn't just happen overnight," he said.

Alabama Fiber Network, a consortium of electric cooperatives, won a total of $45.7 million in ARPA funding specifically for construction to anchor institutions in Greene and surrounding counties. James Hoffman, vice president of external affairs for AFN, said the company is ahead of schedule. It plans to offer the hospital a monthly service plan that uses fiber-optic lines by year's end, he said.

Greene County Health System chief executive Marcia Pugh confirmed that she had talked with multiple companies but said she wasn't sure the work would be complete in the time frame the companies predicted.

"You know, you want to believe," Pugh said.

Beep. Beep.

Nurse Williams had finished the night-shift handoff when she heard beeps from Walker's room.

She rushed toward the sound, accidentally ducking into Room 121 before realizing her mistake.

Once in Walker's room, Williams pressed buttons on the IV pump. The magnesium flowing in the tube had stopped.

"You had a little bit more left in the bag, so I just turned it back on," Williams told Walker. She smiled gently and asked if he was warm enough. Then she hand-checked his heart rate and adjusted his sheets. At the bottom of the bed, Walker's feet hung off the mattress and Williams gently moved them and made sure they were covered.

Walker beamed. At this hospital, he said, "they care."

As rural hospitals like Greene's wait for fast-enough internet, nurses like Williams are "heroes every single day," said Aaron Miri, an executive vice president and the chief digital and information officer for Baptist Health in Jacksonville, Florida.

Miri, who served under both Democratic and Republican administrations on Department of Health and Human Services technology advisory committees, said hospitals need at least a gigabit of speed — which is 1,000 megabits per second — to support electronic health records, video consultations, the transfer of scans and images, and continuous remote monitoring of patients' heartbeats and other vital signs.

But Greene's is less than 10% of that level, recorded on the nurses' station computer as nearly 90 megabits per second for upload and download speeds.

It's a "heartbreaking" situation, Miri said, "but that's the reality of rural America."

The Beeping Stopped

Michael Gordon, one of the hospital's three doctors, arrived the next morning for his 24-hour shift. He paused in Room 122. Walker had been released overnight.

Not being able to monitor a cardiovascular patient's heart rhythm, well, "that's a problem," Gordon said. "You want to know, 'Did something really change or is that just a crazy IV machine just beeping loud and proud and nobody can hear it?'"

Despite the lack of modern technology tools, staffers do what they can to take care of patients, Pugh said. "We show the community that we care," she said.

Pugh, who started her career as a registered nurse, arrived at the hospital in 2017. It was "a mess," she said. The hospital was dinged four years in a row, starting in 2016, with reduced Medicare payments for readmitting patients. Pugh said that at times the hospital had not made payroll. Staff morale was low.

In 2021, federal inspectors notified Pugh of an "immediate jeopardy" violation — grounds for regulators to shut off federal payments — because of an Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act complaint. Among seven deficiencies inspectors cited, the hospital failed to provide a medical screening exam or stabilizing treatment and did not arrange appropriate transfer for a 23-year-old woman who arrived at the hospital in labor, according to federal reports.

Inspectors also said the hospital failed to ensure a doctor was on duty and failed to create and maintain medical records. An ambulance took the woman to another hospital, where the baby was "pronounced dead upon arrival," according to the report.

Federal inspectors required the hospital to take corrective actions and a follow-up inspection in July 2021 found the hospital to be in compliance.

In 2023, federal inspectors again cited the hospital's failure to maintain records and noted it had the "potential to negatively affect patients."

Inspectors that year found that medical records for four discharged patients had been lost. The "physical record" included consent forms, physician orders, and treatment plans and was found in another department, where it had been left for two months.

Pugh declined to comment on the immediate jeopardy case. She confirmed that a lack of internet connectivity and use of paper charts played a role in federal findings, though she emphasized the charts were discharge papers rather than for patients being treated.

She said she understands why federal regulators require electronic health records but "our hospitals just aren't the same." Larger facilities that can "get the latest and greatest" compared with "our facilities that just don't have the manpower or the financials to purchase it," she said, "it's two different things."

Walker, like many rural Americans, relies on Medicaid, a joint state and federal insurance program for people with low incomes and disabilities. Rural hospitals in states such as Alabama that have not expanded Medicaid coverage to a wider pool of residents fare worse financially, research shows.

During Walker's stay, because the hospital can't afford to modernize its systems, nurses dealt with what Pugh later called an "astronomical" number of paper forms.

Later, at Home

Walker sat on the couch in the modest brick home he shares with his sister and nephew. In a pinch, Greene County Hospital, he said, is good "for us around here. You see what I'm saying?"

Still, Walker said, he often bypasses the county hospital and drives up the road to Tuscaloosa or Birmingham, where they have kidney specialists.

"We need better," Walker said, speaking for the 7,600 county residents. He wondered aloud what might happen if he didn't make it to the city for specialty care.

Sometimes, Walker said, he feels "thrown away."

"People done forgotten about me, it feels like," he said. "They don't want to fool with no mess like me."

Maybe Greene County's health care and internet will get better, Walker said, adding, "I hope so, for our sake out in a rural area."

Sarah Jane Tribble: sjtribble@kff.org, @sjtribble

Holly K. Hacker: hhacker@kff.org, @hollyhacker

Undue Medical Debt is retiring $30 billion worth of unpaid bills in a single transaction with Pendrick Capital Partners.

This article was published on Monday, April 7, 2025 in KFF Health News.

By Noam N. Levey

Underscoring the massive scale of America's medical debt problem, a New York-based nonprofit has struck a deal to pay off old medical bills for an estimated 20 million people.

Undue Medical Debt, which buys patient debt, is retiring $30 billion worth of unpaid bills in a single transaction with Pendrick Capital Partners, a Virginia-based debt trading company. The average patient debt being retired is $1,100, according to the nonprofit, with some reaching the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The deal will prevent the debt being sold and protect millions of people from being targeted by collectors. But even proponents of retiring patient debt acknowledge that these deals cannot solve a crisis that now touches around 100 million people in the U.S.

"We don't think that the way we finance health care is sustainable," Undue Medical Debt chief executive Allison Sesso said in an interview with KFF Health News. "Medical debt has unreasonable expectations," she said. "The people who owe the debts can't pay."

In the past year alone, Americans borrowed an estimated $74 billion to pay for health care, a nationwide West Health-Gallup survey found. And even those who benefit from Undue's debt relief may have other medical debt that won't be relieved.

This large purchase also highlights the challenges that debt collectors, hospitals, and other health care providers face as patients rack up big bills that aren't covered by their health insurance.

Pendrick's chief executive, Chris Eastman, declined several requests to be interviewed about the debt sale, which has not been previously reported. But Eastman acknowledged in a 2024 podcast episode that collecting medical debts has grown more challenging as regulators have restricted how collectors can pursue patients.

Pendrick has now shuttered, which Sesso said provided strong motivation for this deal. "This was a really great opportunity to get a debt buyer out of the market," she said.

Undue Medical Debt pioneered its debt relief strategy a decade ago, leveraging charitable donations to buy medical debt from debt trading companies at steeply discounted prices and then freeing patients from the obligation to pay.

The nonprofit now buys debts directly from hospitals, as well. And it is working with about two dozen state and local governments to leverage public money to relieve medical debt in communities from Los Angeles County to Cleveland to the state of Connecticut.

The approach has been controversial. And Undue Medical Debt's record-setting purchase — financed by a mix of philanthropy and taxpayer dollars — is likely to stoke more debate over the value of paying collectors for medical debts.

"The approach is just treating the symptoms and not the disease," said Elisabeth Benjamin, a vice president at the Community Service Society of New York, a nonprofit that has led efforts to restrict aggressive hospital collections. Benjamin and other advocates say systemic changes such as ensuring hospitals offer sufficient financial aid to patients and reining in high medical prices would be more valuable in preventing people from sinking into debt.

But many government officials see retiring people's unpaid medical bills as part of a larger strategy to make it easier for patients to avoid debt in the first place.

"Turning off the tap is what's really important in the long run," said Naman Shah, a physician who directs medical affairs at the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health. The county is working to improve local hospital financial aid programs for patients. But Shah said debt relief is key, as well.

 "It's easy to criticize band-aids when you're not the one who's cut," he said. "As a physician, I take care of people who have cuts, and I know the importance of stitching them back up."

Undue Medical Debt's latest deal, which it is spending $36 million to close, will help patients nationwide, according to the nonprofit. But about half the estimated 20 million people whose debts Pendrick owned live in just two states: Texas or Florida.

Neither has expanded Medicaid coverage through the 2010 Affordable Care Act, a key tool that researchers have found bolsters patients' financial security by protecting them from big medical bills and debt.

The patients eligible for debt relief have incomes at or below four times the federal poverty level, about $63,000 for a single person, or debts that exceed 5% of their incomes.

About half the debts are also more than seven years old. These have been donated to Undue Medical Debt by Pendrick, the group reported.

The nonprofit plans to pay for the rest of the debts over the next year and a half, though all collections have stopped against patients. It also plans to spend an additional $40 million — or $2 a person — to process the debts, find patients, and inform them that their debts have been relieved.

Sesso, Undue's chief executive, said she hopes the debt purchase will keep policymakers focused on enacting longer-term solutions to the nation's medical debt crisis.

She applauded state leaders for taking steps to bar medical debts from their residents' credit scores. But she said action is also needed in Washington, D.C. However, the Trump administration has suspended regulations enacted under former President Joe Biden that would have barred credit reporting of medical debt nationally, and congressional Republicans are now moving to revoke the new rules.

"There is a limit to what state and local governments can do to solve this problem," Sesso said. "It's really a national problem that has to be solved at the national level."

Noam N. Levey: nlevey@kff.org, @NoamLevey

Trump's history of showing leniency to convicted fraudsters contrasts with his present-day crackdown.

This article was published on Tuesday, April 1, 2025 in KFF Health News.

By Brett Kelman

Five years ago, the CEO of one of the largest pain clinic companies in the Southeast was sentenced to more than three years in prison after being convicted in a $4 million illegal kickback scheme.

But after just four months behind bars, John Estin Davis walked free. President Donald Trump commuted Davis' sentence in the last days of his first term. In a statement explaining the decision, the White House said that "no one suffered financially" from Davis' crime.

In court, however, the Trump administration was saying something very different. As the president let him go, the Department of Justice alleged in a civil lawsuit that Davis and his company defrauded taxpayers out of tens of millions of dollars with excessive urine drug testing. The DOJ alleged that Comprehensive Pain Specialists made such a "staggering" sum from cups of pee that employees had given the testing a profit-minded nickname: "liquid gold."

Davis and the company denied all allegations in court filings and settled the DOJ's fraud lawsuit without any determination of liability. Davis declined to comment for this article.

Since returning to the White House, Trump has said he will target fraud in Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security, and his Republican allies in Congress have made combating fraud a key argument in their plans to slash spending on Medicaid, which provides health care for millions of low-income and disabled Americans. During an address to Congress last month, Trump said his administration had found "hundreds of billions of dollars of fraud" without citing any specific examples of fraud.

"Taken back a lot of that money," Trump said. "We got it just in time."

But Trump's history of showing leniency to convicted fraudsters contrasts with his present-day crackdown. In his first and second terms, Trump has granted pardons or commutations to at least 68 people convicted of fraud crimes or of interfering with fraud investigations, according to a KFF Health News review of court and clemency records, DOJ press releases, and news reports. At least 13 of those fraudsters were convicted in cases involving more than $1.6 billion of fraudulent claims filed with Medicare and Medicaid, according to the Department of Justice.

And as one of the first actions of his second term, Trump fired 17 independent inspectors general responsible for rooting out fraud and waste in government.

"It sends a really bad message and really hurts DOJ efforts at creating deterrence," said Jacob Elberg, a former assistant U.S. attorney and law professor at Seton Hall University in New Jersey. "In order to reduce health care fraud, you need people both to be afraid of getting in trouble, but also for people to believe in the legitimacy of the system."

Elberg said considerable fraud in Medicare and Medicaid exists largely because the programs' "pay-and-chase models" prioritize paying for patient care first and tracking down stolen dollars second. To prevent more fraud, the programs would likely need to be redesigned in ways that would be slower and more cumbersome for all patients, Elberg said.

Regardless, Elberg said the president's claimed focus on fraud appears to be a pretext for slashing spending that has been legally appropriated by Congress. Trump has empowered the Elon Musk-led Department of Government Efficiency, which he established and named by executive order, to make deep cuts in federal budgets, halting some medical research and aid programs in addition to cutting spending on climate change, transgender health, and diversity, equity, and inclusion programs.

"What's been the focal point to date of the administration is not what anybody has ever referred to as health care fraud," Elberg said. "There is a real blurring — a seemingly intentional blurring — between what is actually fraud and what is just spending that they are not in favor of."

Jerry Martin, who served as a U.S. attorney for the Middle District of Tennessee under President Barack Obama and now represents health care fraud whistleblowers, also said Trump's focus on fraud appeared to be "just a platform to attack things that they don't agree with" rather than "a genuine desire to root out and combat fraud."

Even so, Martin said some of his whistleblower clients have been emboldened.

"I've had clients repeat back to me 'President Trump says fraud is a priority,'" Martin said. "People are listening to it. But I don't know that what he's saying translates into what they believe."

The White House did not respond to requests for comment for this article.

A Billion-Dollar Fraud Case and Needless Eye Injections

Presidents enjoy the unique authority to erase federal convictions and prison sentences with pardons and commutations. In theory, the power is intended to be a final bulwark against injustice or overly harsh punishment. But many presidents have been accused of using the pardon power to reward powerful allies and close associates as they leave the White House.

Trump issued about 190 pardons and commutations in the final two months of his first term, including for some health care fraudsters convicted of schemes with astonishing costs.

For example, Trump granted a commutation to Philip Esformes, a Florida health care executive convicted in 2019 of a $1.3 billion Medicare and Medicaid fraud scheme. After he was sentenced, DOJ announced in a press release that "the man behind one of the biggest health care frauds in history will be spending 20 years in prison." Trump freed him 14 months later.

Trump also granted a commutation to Salomon Melgen, a Florida eye doctor who was serving a 17-year prison sentence for defrauding Medicare of $42 million. Melgen falsely diagnosed patients with eye diseases, then gave them unnecessary care, including laser treatments and painful eye injections, according to DOJ and court documents.

"Salomon Melgen callously took advantage of patients who came to him fearing blindness," said a DOJ news release after Melgen was sentenced in 2018. "They received medically unreasonable and unnecessary tests and procedures that victimized his patients and the American taxpayer."

DOJ: $70M Spent on 'Excessive' Urine Testing

Despite the flurry of pardons and commutations at the end of Trump's first term, the leniency he showed Davis was unique. Davis was the only convicted health care fraudster to receive clemency while the Trump administration was simultaneously accusing him of more fraud.

As CEO of Comprehensive Pain Specialists from 2011 to 2017, Davis oversaw a rapid expansion to more than 60 locations across 12 states, according to federal court documents.

He was indicted in 2018 for using his CEO position to refer Medicare patients in need of medical equipment to a conspirator in return for kickbacks paid through a shell company, according to court documents. He was convicted at trial in April 2019 of defrauding Medicare.

Three months later, the DOJ filed a fraud lawsuit against Davis and CPS that piggybacked on the claims of seven whistleblowers. The lawsuit alleged that CPS collected more than $70 million from federal insurance programs for urine drug testing, most of which was "excessive," and that an audit of a sampling of the tests had found at least 93% "lacked medical necessity."

Typically, government insurance programs pay for urine testing so pain clinics can verify that patients are taking their prescriptions properly and not abusing any other drugs, which could contribute to an overdose. Patients could be tested as little as once a year or as often as monthly depending on their level of risk, according to the DOJ lawsuit.

But Comprehensive Pain Specialists performed "myriad urine drug testing on virtually every CPS patient on virtually every visit" then conducted "at least 16 different types of tests" on each sample, and sometimes as many as 51, according to the lawsuit.

Trump commuted Davis' sentence for his criminal conviction in January 2021 as the DOJ was finalizing a settlement in the civil lawsuit. The commutation was supported by country music star Luke Bryan, according to a White House statement.

Months later, with President Joe Biden in office, CPS and its owners agreed to repay $4.1 million — less than 10% of the damages sought in the suit — and the case was closed.

In the settlement, Davis agreed not to take any job where he would ever again bill Medicare or other federal health care programs. He was not required to personally repay anything.

Martin, who represented one of the whistleblowers who first raised allegations against Davis and CPS, said the leniency that Trump showed to him and other health care fraudsters may discourage DOJ employees from pursuing similar investigations during his second term.

"There are a lot of rank-and-file people who are operating at the lowest point in their professional careers, where they've seen a lot of their work essentially be water under the bridge," Martin said. "That's got to be really demoralizing."

Brett Kelman: bkelman@kff.org, @BrettKelman