The air near the California Statehouse felt unusually thick this Thursday, the kind of heavy, humid heat that makes everything feel just a bit more irritable. Nick Shirley, the conservative influencer known for his viral, confrontational style, was there with a videographer in tow, stalking the entrances with a stack of papers. It wasn’t exactly a polite lobbyist affair.
He was looking for Assemblymember Josh Lowenthal, cornering him to ask pointed questions about the current legislative buzz. Misryoum obtained footage showing him moving through the crowd, camera rolling, trying to pin someone—anyone—down for a comment. He didn’t seem to care much about protocol.
At the heart of the frustration is a proposed bill that has everyone talking. It’s aimed at shielding immigrant service providers from doxing and threats, but critics—including Shirley—see something more sinister. He’s been shouting from the rooftops that this is really just a tool to “criminalize investigative journalism.” He told his followers, “The true threat is from within,” arguing that when leaders protect people he considers fraudsters, the rest of us are basically left in the dust. Or maybe just under the boot? It’s hard to say exactly where his rhetoric lands sometimes, but he’s convinced the state is out to get him.
Assemblymember Mia Bonta, who wrote the bill, says it’s meant to stop actual danger—not journalism. She pointed to a April 7 hearing where she explained that people doing legal aid and advocacy work are getting death threats. “This is not hypothetical,” she insisted. But for people like Carl DeMaio, a Republican colleague, the bill is just a massive overreach, even calling it the “Stop Nick Shirley Act.” He thinks it’s an attempt to hide taxpayer-funded fraud from anyone with a camera.
If the bill passes, sharing photos or personal data of these providers online could cost you a $10,000 fine or a year in jail. Things get much worse if someone actually gets hurt—up to $50,000 and felony time. It’s a steep price for a social media post, depending on how a judge defines ‘harassment.’
Bonta doesn’t seem to be losing sleep over the criticism, though. She pretty much shut down the complaints, stating that if some folks can’t tell the difference between legitimate reporting and plain old doxing, that’s their problem. I mean, it’s a sharp line to draw, right? But whether it’s a defense of privacy or a gag order, the atmosphere at the capitol is—well, let’s just say it’s far from settled.