My face was on TV today!... Weird
Interview with I-Team 8's Kyla Russell from Indianapolis
So, uh… I was on the news.
Like… actual TV news. Indianapolis Channel 8, WISH-TV. You might’ve seen it. If you didn’t, that’s okay. I’m not exactly the media-trained type (at all), and the idea of showing up on air at this time of my life wasn’t high on my 2025 bingo card.
(I swear I posted this, but it was still open on my laptop from the day of, whoopsie - I’ll update the tense and add any clarification + an update as of today 7/2/25 and change nothing else)
The reporter, Kyla Russell, found me through TikTok and reached out late last week. We spoke on the phone on Monday (6/23/25) around noon, and set up a time for a zoom interview for 10 AM Central/11 AM Eastern today (6/26/25). And I gotta say - Kyla is great. She was grounded, prepared, and not performative. She tried her best to guide my overly panicked self back into the things we had already discussed, but more importantly, she actually listened before the interview, and definitely seems like she wants to help people.
This was the first time I’ve ever been interviewed by the news. And yes, I was nervous. Not the good kind of nervous either, but more like the kind where you black back into reality forty-five minutes later. But it ended up being a solid convo, and they got the clips that they needed to do a segment. The interview was for maybe 15-20 minutes. I had shared with her a little backstory. A little policy. And we both had a lot of shared confusion about how many people in Indy seem to be getting steamrolled by the Marion County Health and Hospital Corporation.
Out of those 20 minutes, they used about thirty seconds.
That’s not a complaint - TV’s gotta move fast. I get it. You’ve got a tight word count and a visual clock ticking the whole time. But since this is my space, not theirs, and you don’t have to sit through a giant ummmm while I try to recall February through the last 45 days of toxin fog, so I’m gonna walk you through the rest of my blabbing they didn’t have time for.
Because the two minutes they aired pertained only to me, but my situation is likely an ordeal encountered by the citizens of Indianapolis on an unfortunately regular basis.
“Victory?” Depends Who You Ask
So here’s how the news framed it: Marion County is dismissing the case. 🎺Cue the victory horns.🎺
I get why they ran with that. From the outside, it sounds like a clean win. Local man gets dragged into court over a phantom junk car, raises hell online, Channel 8 picks it up, county backs down. It’s true, and that’s a tidy arc. Feels good. Has a little justice sparkle to it.
The problem is… I’ve heard this song before.
Back in March, after weeks of chasing down city inspectors and sending video proof that there was no junk car on the property, I got told the issue was being resolved. That it was handled. Case closed.
Then in June, I got a court summons.
So you’ll forgive me if I don’t break out the party balloons just yet. The county saying something is dismissed isn’t the same as it actually being dismissed. Not until I see it on the docket, from the court itself, with a big ol’ “closed” stamp on it. Until then, it’s just a polite way of asking me to let my guard down.
And I’ve already played that game once.
To borrow a slightly mangled presidential quote: Fool me, can’t get fooled again.
So no - this isn’t a victory lap. I hope it will be soon.
But not yet.
It’s a maybe. It’s a “we’ll see.” It’s a pause in a fight I didn’t start, over a problem that probably never should’ve existed in the first place.
So Why Is the Health Department Policing Cars?
Great question! I’m glad you asked.
It’s the one I asked myself when I got that court summons from Marion County: why is a health department suing me over a car?
Not a biohazard. Not an outbreak. A car. A perfectly normal-looking….uhhh, I never got actual confirmation of the vehicle, but it’s something with no plates and, as far as I can tell, a serious case of being parked in front of the wrong house.
I thought I’d hung up my public policy hat years ago, but since I keep it next to my lawyer hat, and I still had those hats handy, I used it to write up some information I shared with Kyla, and now I will share it with you. Because all of this sounds like a DMV thing. Or a zoning thing. But it’s not. It’s a Frankenstein monster stitched together from multiple codes that were never meant to live in the same body.
Under Indiana state law, a vehicle on private personal property is only considered “junk” or “abandoned” when the following are true:
It’s been left for a specific amount of time (like min 48+ hours to 20 days without permission),
It’s missing essential parts or not working,
And in those cases? The vehicle owner is the one responsible. Not the landlord. Not the guy who owns the dirt underneath it. The owner of the car.
Municipal code in Indianapolis adds another layer. It says a car that doesn’t have plates is “inoperable” because you legally can’t drive it on public roads. Still annoying, but at least that definition usually sticks to traffic enforcement - and again, typically targets whoever owns the vehicle.
But then Marion County’s Health and Hospital Corporation (HHC) came along and said:
“Actually… we’re gonna take that traffic definition, combine it with vacant building justifications, and apply it to public health enforcement on residential property.”
Which leads to two major shifts that I think are quietly screwing over a whole lot of people:
1. Redefining What Counts as a Junk Vehicle
Under HHC, a car doesn’t need to be damaged.
Doesn’t need to be abandoned.
Doesn’t need to be a mosquito breeding ground.
If it doesn’t have current registration? Boom. It could be labeled a Junk vehicle.
Even if it’s functional. Even if it’s in use.
This appears to be all based on that borrowed clause from the traffic code that says a car without plates is “inoperable” because it can’t be legally driven on the street without a citation.
So... off the street, on private property, for any length of time, with zero visible damage? Could still be junk.
2. Shifting Liability to the Property Owner
HHC doesn’t care who owns the vehicle.
They don’t care who parked it.
They don’t require any time threshold, like “how long was it there?”
If the car is seen unregistered on your property - even once - you, the property owner, can be cited.
It doesn’t matter if:
The car never left the driveway.
You didn’t give permission for it to be there.
It’s only there overnight.
It’s not yours.
It’s perfectly functional.
They don’t need proof it’s broken. They just need to confirm it doesn’t have plates. That’s it.
But here’s the kicker: the actual condition of the vehicle doesn’t matter. Whether it runs, whether it’s damaged, whether there’s evidence of pests - none of that is required for them to tag you. Is that vehicle looking a little dirty? All they need is one box checked: no plates.
Then, just like that, it’s your problem.
And I do mean your problem. Not the vehicle owner’s. Not the person who parked it there. Not the tenant who lives on the property. You, the property owner - no matter how far away you live, no matter if you’ve never even seen the car before - you are now the proud owner of a public health citation for a vehicle you don’t control and can’t tow.
Because apparently that’s what public health means now.
Never mind that Indiana state law, and the city of Indianapolis have their own standards for junk and abandoned vehicles - ones that actually require things like proof of inoperability, lack of consent, and a time threshold. Marion County HHC just kind of… patched together their own little version and decided it trumps everything.
So when I say this isn’t just about me, that’s what I mean.
This whole setup is like a legal tripwire buried in the lawn. Doesn’t matter who laid it, or who stepped on it - if your name’s on the deed, you’re the one who gets blown up.
How I See It Happening (And Why That’s a Problem)
I can’t speak for every case in Marion County. But I can tell you what happened to me- and how it’s led me to believe this isn’t just a one-off screw-up or an overzealous inspector. It looks a lot more like a systemic trap. And once you’re in it, it’s damn near impossible to get out.
Here’s what I’ve pieced together from my own experience:
An inspector drives by a house I’ve never visited and sees a car. No plates. Maybe a little dusty. Definitely not broken.
Without confirming ownership or condition, they flag it as a junk vehicle.
I get cited under a public health ordinance, even though I’ve never seen the vehicle, don’t own it, and don’t even live in the state.
I respond. My property manager responds. We send photos showing no car present.
The inspector goes silent. Doesn’t reply. Doesn’t revisit. Just… disappears.
Turns out, he was on leave. The county later blamed the entire misfire on that fact “Oh, well, the original inspector wasn’t around to follow up.”
^ (I got this with an…apology from their administrator after Kyla knocked on the door and the PR alarm went off)
Except… while he was gone, we were actively working with a supervisor. Not a temp. Not a fill-in. A supervisor. Someone who I assume has the full authority to review, investigate, and close cases.
So the whole “oops, this was just a one-time employee error” explanation doesn’t hold. We weren’t left in a vacuum. We were responding, escalating, and following up - with leadership. That makes it a policy problem, not a personnel one.
And here’s where it gets extra cartoonish:
After we proved - visually, clearly, and multiple times - that there was no car on the property, the county said they’d go ahead and dismiss the hearing.
Cool. Great. Justice, maybe?
Except no. The supervisor we’d been working with was apparently so committed to the idea that this unplated-but-functional vehicle was a public health threat that he drove out to the property personally to “verify.”
And wouldn’t you know it… maybe it was lunchtime, the same car had magically reappeared. Like it had just popped back in to grab a sandwich.
Still no plates. Still not broken. Still not mine.
So instead of dismissing the case, they hit the reset button. Like our whole months-long process of proving it didn’t exist suddenly didn’t matter because the car showed up again with it’s perfect timing.
And because it showed up again - briefly, and still just sitting there, not rusting, not leaking, not attracting rats - the citation stands.
They weren’t checking for infestation. They weren’t checking for damage. They weren’t even checking property lines, as far as I can tell. They just needed to lay eyes on something that didn’t have plates physically, and once they did, that was it. Back on the hook.
It’s not that you’re being held responsible for a health hazard.
You’re being held responsible for the idea of one. And that idea seems to reset every time someone blinks.
Which is why I don’t think this is about one inspector making a mistake. It’s a system that, whether intentionally or not, is designed to operate on the lowest possible bar of proof, and once you’re in the trap, you’re stuck until someone above that system decides to let you out.
And so far? They don’t seem eager to do that.
Hypothetical That’s Not So Hypothetical
Let’s say your cousin parks their unregistered car in your driveway for one night.
It runs fine. It leaves in the morning. You don’t even know it happened.
But someone from the Marion County Health Department drove by after having a bad day, sees no plates, and now you’re under investigation for a public health violation. Not a traffic issue. Not a zoning complaint. A health code infraction, complete with potential fines of $2,500 per day and a looming court order to "permanently abate" the issue.
No photos are shared. No evidence is shown. Just a vague form letter, and the promise that if you don’t fix it fast enough, they’ll take you to civil court and make the violation permanent.
That's not theoretical. That’s exactly how this went for me.
No final ruling. No process of verification or appeal. Just an open-ended threat hanging over your property, a ten day window to cure on a two week delivery time frame, and a legal department that seems ready to jump straight from “you might have a junk car” to “we want an injunction against you and your house.”
And even when we proved there wasn’t a junk vehicle on the property?
This isn’t about health.
And the way this is written, it could happen to anyone without warning, without proof, and without a path out.
Now we wait
I keep wondering how many other people in Indianapolis have gone through something like this, how many never got a letter in time, never had the tools to push back, never got a news crew or a sympathetic employee in the right inbox at the right moment. I’m not from the city, and I don’t have a network there. I’ve been trying to come up with some way to gather real stories, real examples, things that are not just complaints, but something grounded enough to show how broken this process can be.
But I’ve hit a wall.
Because when you’re going up against an institution, especially a government one, it’s almost impossible to separate the signal from the noise. You get a mix of legitimate horror stories, half-misunderstood policy rants, and everything in between. And once the sample size gets big, it all becomes unmanageable.
I’ve seen it happen from the inside. When I worked for the federal government, that’s how it always played out: usable data, unusable data, and a weird gray sludge of “technically accurate but legally irrelevant” in the middle. It’s not that people aren’t trying to help, it’s that the system is designed to ignore anything that doesn’t fit neatly in the nice little checkbox.
And I don’t want to flood someone like Kyla with that either. She’s sharp. She’s efficient. But she’s one person. And unless there’s a clean, high-impact way to tell a larger story with it, it’s just going to weigh everyone down.
So I don’t have a call to action here. No form to fill out. No petition to sign. No strong idea yet that I could pursue outside of a courtroom with a lawyer I can’t afford.
I just know this isn’t an isolated experience. And if it’s happening more broadly - if other people are getting blindsided by citations with no proof, no recourse, and no clarity- I hope they stumble into the same kind of luck I did. Not luck with the system, but luck with the right person finally paying attention.
That’s the only kind of accountability we seem to get.
Thanks, Kyla (Seriously)
I need to give credit where it’s due: thank you to Kyla Russell and the team at WISH-TV for bringing attention to this.
I had been going back and forth with Marion County Public Health since the court summons first hit my inbox, and their level of responsiveness was about the same as a flat-screen TV with no screen. Technically there, but not much to look at.
Last week, I emailed the department again. Took a pause on filing the ‘motion to dismiss’ I had already written and sent over a calm message with the March 6th video clearly showing that no junk car was present. Their response?
I’ll summarize how I saw it: ‘Based on this quick read, our lack of in-file evidence, and this video that doesn’t contain a junk vehicle, we’ve determined that you need to re-contact the same inspector who started this whole mess before going on leave.”
I did. His response?
“It’ll be reinspected before court.”
Mine?
“Cool, well I’m filing a motion to dismiss Friday, so let me know.”
It was during this exchange that Kyla stepped in, and I’m pretty sure both the public pressure from Channel 8 and the private pressure from some of the genuinely good people inside the department (yes, several employees privately messaged me on TikTok trying to help) finally pushed this mess to the front of the queue.
I’m not sure the story with HHC is over. Not for me. Not for anyone else dealing with this.
They put me through hell during two separate but equally miserable periods of my life, and after all this? Their closing message was to thank me for my compliance & cooperation - like that somehow erased the stress, the silence, the bad faith, the court summons.
I wanted a real resolution.
But for now?
I’ve got other fish to fry.
7/2/2025 Update:
I realized this post sat open longer than I meant to, so before it goes live—here’s the latest.
I did finally receive word, through a court notice from the legal team at Marion County Health and Hospital, that the case has been officially dismissed. So yes, I’m relieved. It’s over. For me.
But the fact that this ever escalated to court is still outrageous. This was the second time I’ve been dragged through procedural chaos by this same department, and in both cases, the system responded less like a public health agency and more like a stress capacity study.
And while I’m grateful that a few incredibly kind employees reached out to me through TikTok, and the people I spoke to on the general line were genuinely helpful, none of them had the authority to override the decision-making bottleneck caused by a single supervisor.
Whether that supervisor mishandled the handoff during the employee's leave and return, or just walked away from the situation, the result was the same: I got boxed in. Boxed into a threat. Boxed into silence. Boxed into skipping normal due process. And once you're stuck in that kind of bureaucratic loop, there’s no normal channel left to escape through.
So yes, I'm glad it’s dismissed.
But this entire process, from citation to court summons, was legally shaky and morally indefensible. And while I hope no one else has to go through it, if you do? I hope you get absurdly lucky. Because luck and the goodwill of others was the only thing that kept this from becoming permanent for me.