Newsom Battles Oz Over Explosive Hospice Fraud Video Targeting Armenian Businesses

Paul Riverbank, 1/31/2026A dispute over fraud claims in Van Nuys has ignited tensions between Dr. Mehmet Oz and Gov. Gavin Newsom, spotlighting the intersection of politics, ethnicity, and community impact in today’s polarized climate.

Oz, strolling past the lapis-and-cream awning of an Armenian bakery, began to raise alarms about Medicare fraud. But in his commentary, he pointed directly at the bakery and store signs sprinkled with Armenian script, linking their presence to criminal activity, and then climbed to bigger accusations: “You notice the lettering and language behind me is of that dialect,” Oz narrates, his tone flat. Forty-two hospice providers in just four city blocks, he claims. One business, he adds, implicated in a $16 million case supposedly tied to local organized crime—the “Russian Armenian mafia,” as he put it.

It’s not the first time someone’s tried to connect dots this way, but this video—snippets of which flooded social media—ignited a particular storm, not least because Oz stands in front of the bakery for emphasis. “There has not been a lot of attention on these problems,” he laments, as delivery vans crawl past.

Within hours, California Governor Gavin Newsom shot back, frustrated and direct. His retort carried less drama, but more formal weight. Newsom highlighted that California had, in fact, been actively cleaning up the hospice industry: over 280 licenses revoked, a freeze on new approvals dating back to 2022. But his efforts to quash Oz’s claims didn’t end there. By evening, Newsom’s office announced it had submitted a civil rights complaint to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. In his words, Oz’s commentary amounted to “baseless and racially charged allegations”—rhetoric that, he argued, risks discouraging vulnerable families from seeking hospice or home-based care out of fear.

The fallout was swiftest on the ground. That bakery, which before the video had enjoyed a steady stream of locals hunting for fresh lahmajun and coffee, told reporters that business dwindled soon after. Newsom’s aides pointed to a chilling effect that can ripple out from such public accusations, especially when amplified by a well-known figure.

Perhaps most galling for some in Van Nuys—where memories run deep—was the uncomfortable overlay of geopolitics. For many Armenian Americans, being singled out by Oz, a high-profile Turk, felt less like random scrutiny and more like an old wound poked at in public. Diplomatic ties between Armenia and Turkey remain virtually frozen, and mutual suspicion runs high. These dynamics predate Oz’s arrival on the scene but color how every word lands.

And then there’s the broader context—these skirmishes over fraud aren’t limited to Los Angeles. Rewind a few years and you’ll see a similar playbook: allegations of health care scams in Minneapolis, this time centered on Somali-American daycare centers, ended with heavy-handed raids and, in two tragic cases, loss of life. It’s an old American story, really, about how the line between rooting out criminality and stigmatizing entire communities often grows blurry when politics enters the frame.

As of this writing, neither Oz nor the CMS have provided further backing for his recorded claims. No data dump, no clarifying statement. Yet, the consequences for this stretch of Ventura Boulevard—the baker, the hospice agencies, the families peering nervously over their shoulders—are already evident.

This incident, at its core, isn’t only about regulatory battles or statistics tucked away in DOJ files. It exposes how words, once released into the world, can redraw boundaries; how national battles over public policy leave real marks on specific neighborhoods. If anything, the dusty sunshine outside that Van Nuys bakery now feels heavier with history, with resentments old and new. And while the political players trade accusations on camera and in statements, it’s the local shopkeepers and workers who wonder how long the impact will linger.

You can feel the tension on certain sun-baked corners in Van Nuys these days, and not only from the heat radiating off the sidewalk. That’s where Dr. Mehmet Oz, now at the head of the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, filmed a brief clip that started as a standard callout against healthcare fraud—but quickly veered into far rougher territory.Oz, strolling past the lapis-and-cream awning of an Armenian bakery, began to raise alarms about Medicare fraud. But in his commentary, he pointed directly at the bakery and store signs sprinkled with Armenian script, linking their presence to criminal activity, and then climbed to bigger accusations: “You notice the lettering and language behind me is of that dialect,” Oz narrates, his tone flat. Forty-two hospice providers in just four city blocks, he claims. One business, he adds, implicated in a $16 million case supposedly tied to local organized crime—the “Russian Armenian mafia,” as he put it.It’s not the first time someone’s tried to connect dots this way, but this video—snippets of which flooded social media—ignited a particular storm, not least because Oz stands in front of the bakery for emphasis. “There has not been a lot of attention on these problems,” he laments, as delivery vans crawl past.Within hours, California Governor Gavin Newsom shot back, frustrated and direct. His retort carried less drama, but more formal weight. Newsom highlighted that California had, in fact, been actively cleaning up the hospice industry: over 280 licenses revoked, a freeze on new approvals dating back to 2022. But his efforts to quash Oz’s claims didn’t end there. By evening, Newsom’s office announced it had submitted a civil rights complaint to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. In his words, Oz’s commentary amounted to “baseless and racially charged allegations”—rhetoric that, he argued, risks discouraging vulnerable families from seeking hospice or home-based care out of fear.The fallout was swiftest on the ground. That bakery, which before the video had enjoyed a steady stream of locals hunting for fresh lahmajun and coffee, told reporters that business dwindled soon after. Newsom’s aides pointed to a chilling effect that can ripple out from such public accusations, especially when amplified by a well-known figure.Perhaps most galling for some in Van Nuys—where memories run deep—was the uncomfortable overlay of geopolitics. For many Armenian Americans, being singled out by Oz, a high-profile Turk, felt less like random scrutiny and more like an old wound poked at in public. Diplomatic ties between Armenia and Turkey remain virtually frozen, and mutual suspicion runs high. These dynamics predate Oz’s arrival on the scene but color how every word lands.And then there’s the broader context—these skirmishes over fraud aren’t limited to Los Angeles. Rewind a few years and you’ll see a similar playbook: allegations of health care scams in Minneapolis, this time centered on Somali-American daycare centers, ended with heavy-handed raids and, in two tragic cases, loss of life. It’s an old American story, really, about how the line between rooting out criminality and stigmatizing entire communities often grows blurry when politics enters the frame.As of this writing, neither Oz nor the CMS have provided further backing for his recorded claims. No data dump, no clarifying statement. Yet, the consequences for this stretch of Ventura Boulevard—the baker, the hospice agencies, the families peering nervously over their shoulders—are already evident.This incident, at its core, isn’t only about regulatory battles or statistics tucked away in DOJ files. It exposes how words, once released into the world, can redraw boundaries; how national battles over public policy leave real marks on specific neighborhoods. If anything, the dusty sunshine outside that Van Nuys bakery now feels heavier with history, with resentments old and new. And while the political players trade accusations on camera and in statements, it’s the local shopkeepers and workers who wonder how long the impact will linger.