Chapter 9 of Licensed to Exploit: The OBTP Accountability Project
The Day the Gloves Came Off–Recap
You know what happened. You’ve seen the fragments—the denials, the vanished FAQ, the regulatory sleight-of-hand.
But what you didn’t know—and what they now wish they hadn’t caused—was what came next.
That was the day I gave up.
Gave up on pretense. Gave up on niceties. Gave up on courtesy, on patience, on the expectation that this Board operated with anything resembling mutual respect.
That was the day that I gave up. And the gloves came off.
It wasn’t a court filing that started it. It wasn’t a press release, or a FOIA lawsuit, or some grand public declaration.
It was a question.
A question they couldn’t answer. A question they didn’t want to answer. A question that, once asked, couldn’t be unasked:
“Where is the authority?”
Where’s the rule that says out-of-state preparers must be licensed? Where’s the statute that stretches “in this state” across state lines? Where’s the memo, the vote, the hearing, the precedent?
I asked. Politely. Legally. Formally.
They responded by slamming the gate shut—and sealing the hinges with lies.
The Records They Didn’t Want Found
I submitted records requests on October 3 and 4, 2024. I asked for everything related to their licensing claims—memos, communications, rulemaking files, the H&R Block settlement. I asked for the documents they said justified their policy. I asked for the evidence.
They denied my fee waiver. Twice.
They said the public wasn’t interested. That my request wasn’t important enough. That their staff was too limited. That their budget was too small. That their attorney needed time.
Then they demanded $6,000.
No itemized list. No explanation of hours. No separation between requests.
Just: pay us, or the records stay buried.
The False Narrative
When I appealed to the Attorney General, OBTP doubled down. They invented a motive:
“You only submitted this request after the Board contacted you regarding licensure.”
Except they hadn’t.
The Board had never contacted me. I reached out first. I had the emails. The dates. The screenshots.
I called them out. They admitted the mistake.
And the Attorney General corrected it.
But they still denied my appeal.
They didn’t care that the denial was based on a lie. They didn’t reassess. They didn’t pause. They didn’t even flinch.
Because it was never about whether I was right. It was about whether they could get away with it.
Gloves Off
After that, I knew. The time for questions was over. The time for petitions was over.
Now it was time for filings. For exhibits. For affidavits. For declaratory judgment.
They wanted to play gatekeeper. I was going to ask the court to knock the gate down.
And this time, they wouldn’t get to decide who was “in this state.”
Next: Filing Day – The launch of the lawsuit that pulled their quiet empire into the light.