Chapter 2 of Licensed to Exploit: The OBTP Accountability Project
The price of asking questions? $6,000.
That’s what the Oregon Board of Tax Practitioners told me it would cost to access records related to their unprecedented claim that out-of-state tax preparers must be licensed in Oregon. I had filed three separate public records requests—each asking for documentation, legal support, or internal discussions showing how the Board reached that conclusion.
They didn’t cite statutes.
They didn’t cite administrative rules.
They cited staffing shortages.
They cited holiday schedules.
And then, they handed me the bill:
Agency time: 8 days x 8 hours @ $25/hr = $1,600
Attorney time: 2 days x 8 hours @ $275/hr = $4,400
Total: $6,000
(OBTP email, Nov. 25, 2024)
That’s not an estimate. That’s a barrier—one they had no intention of making scalable, fair, or reviewable. They demanded the full amount up front before they would continue “processing” my requests. No breakdown by request. No itemized record log. Just: pay, or we close the file.
And that’s exactly what they did. In direct violation of the statute.
The Records Law Says Something Different
Under Oregon law, public records must be produced “as soon as practicable and without unreasonable delay.” (ORS 192.329(1)). Public bodies may charge actual costs—not inflated assumptions or round-numbered invoices designed to shut the door.
ORS 192.324(5) also provides for fee waivers if the request is in the public interest.
This one clearly was:
- It concerned a Board policy affecting 800,000+ PTIN holders nationwide
- It touched on interstate licensing, consumer access, and agency jurisdiction
- It was backed by citation, argument, and constitutional questions
The Board responded by claiming there wasn’t “enough public interest” because not enough people had asked yet. As if public interest only exists once it’s crowded.
And the kicker? They closed the case in barely 30 days.
The law? It gives me 60.
A clear pattern: when timelines are inconvenient, when statutes get in their way, the Board doesn’t follow them—they rewrite them. Discretion has become license. And that’s how agencies like OBTP get away with doing whatever the ████ they want.
Discretion as a Weapon (We’ll pick up more on this in Chapter 3)
In correspondence with the Department of Justice, the Board’s executive director claimed the agency would deny the waiver even if it met the public interest test. They cited burdens on staff and attorney time—exactly the kinds of internal constraints the law says may not override the public’s right to know.
Worse, the AG’s office initially defended this denial using a false statement proffered by Laura Kardokus—that I had only submitted the requests after being contacted by the Board that I needed to be licensed. Implying that my righteous quest for the truth was masquerading as spite. That was untrue. (Against my will, I subjected myself to licensure before ever taking up the pen.)
I demanded proof. “Laura, tell me when you reached out to me.”
The Board couldn’t. Because it never happened. They finally admitted as much, behind backdoors, to the AG’s office. But the AG upheld the denial anyway. All they did was issue a “corrected” version of the denial—after the damage was done. No acknowledgment of the error’s impact. No reconsideration. No pause.
Due process? Of course not. I’m a citizen of another state they’re trying to silence and oppress.
At no point did they consider that the Board’s $6,000 fee might be a tool of obstruction.
At no point did they question whether a two-person agency claiming “privilege” over virtually everything they do might deserve a closer look.
Not a Request—A Gatekeeping Mechanism
Let’s be honest: this wasn’t a fee. It was a message.
Stop asking.
Or start paying.
And in that moment, OBTP stopped pretending this was about compliance or consumer protection. It became about containment.
The Records They Didn’t Want to Share
This exchange came after I asked a direct question: what documents were used to evaluate and deny my fee waiver requests?
The director eventually admitted:
“I did not consider any internal communications before responding to you.” (Laura Kardokus, Nov. 26, 2024)
But other communications told a different story. In her own emails, DOJ attorney McCracken confirmed that Kardokus had been “taking lead from Board counsel.” That is internal communication. That was part of the record.
In a separate response, Kardokus even said, “Even if you had requested one, we would have denied it.” Not based on review. Not based on documents. Based on intent. The decision was made before the facts.
And that means someone’s lying—or deliberately erasing their footprints.
The Playbook Is Clear Now
Delay.
Overcharge.
Deny.
Accuse.
Repeat.
The moment they realized someone was watching closely—someone who would file, cite, challenge, and appeal—they stopped operating like a regulatory body. They started operating like a fortress.
But this time, the invoice didn’t go unpaid. It got published.