Bass Faces Heat Over Vanishing Texts During LA's Palisades Fire Crisis

As a political observer who's covered city halls across America for three decades, I find the recent revelation about Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass's auto-deleting text messages deeply troubling. Not just because of the timing – coinciding with January's devastating Palisades Fire – but because it represents a growing pattern of digital governance operating in the shadows.

Let's cut through the bureaucratic speak here. City lawyer David Michaelson's claim that there's "no requirement" to save text messages doesn't just strain credibility – it flies in the face of both common sense and California state law. I've watched countless public officials try to dance around records retention requirements, but this particular waltz feels especially clumsy.

The mayor's office wants us to accept that Bass maintained "constant communication" during her 24-hour return journey from Ghana's presidential inauguration, yet conveniently can't produce a single text message from that critical period. Having covered my share of natural disasters, I can tell you that emergency response generates a paper trail – or in this case, a digital one – that would fill a small library.

What's particularly striking is the casual way this practice of auto-deletion was revealed. "Her phone is set not to save text messages," Michaelson told the LA Times, as if describing a mundane email filter rather than a system that effectively erases public records. I've seen this before – technology being used as a convenient shield against transparency rather than a tool for better governance.

The timing couldn't be more problematic. Bass has already admitted her Africa trip was "absolutely" a mistake – a rare moment of political candor that now rings hollow against this backdrop of vanishing communications. Those cocktail party photos while Los Angeles burned weren't just a PR nightmare; they were a symptom of a larger disconnect between City Hall and the citizens it serves.

Here's what keeps nagging at me: The Los Angeles Administrative Code's two-year retention requirement isn't some obscure regulation – it's a fundamental safeguard for democratic accountability. When city officials conduct business through texts, those messages become part of the public record, whether it's convenient or not.

I've spent enough time in newsrooms to know that public records requests often reveal the story behind the story. The Times' request for Bass's text messages from January 7-8 should have been routine. Instead, we got the bureaucratic equivalent of "the dog ate my homework" – a response of "no responsive records" without any explanation of why.

For Angelenos who watched their neighborhoods burn in January, this isn't just about missing text messages. It's about trust. It's about knowing whether their mayor was truly engaged during a crisis, regardless of her physical location. These aren't unreasonable expectations – they're the basic compact between citizens and their elected officials.

The digital age has given public officials new tools for conducting business, but it shouldn't give them new ways to avoid scrutiny. As someone who's watched government transparency evolve from paper memos to email to instant messages, I can say with certainty: The medium may change, but the public's right to know shouldn't.

This isn't just a Los Angeles story. It's a warning bell for citizens everywhere about how technology can be weaponized against transparency. When public officials can simply set their phones to auto-delete, they're not just erasing messages – they're erasing accountability itself.