Rachel Leingang, Votebeat

Revealed: Mysterious benefactors behind Mike Lindell's push to hand-count ballots

This article was co-published in partnership with The Guardian.

Votebeat is a nonprofit news organization reporting on voting access and election administration across the U.S. Sign up for our free newsletters here.

TEMPE, Ariz. — At the local discount cinema in this Phoenix suburb this winter, a crowd of about 100 took their seats for something different from the typical Sunday matinee.

The man standing in front of the big screen, Mark Cook, packed up his life months ago to drive around in an RV for a mission he said he was called to by God. Their elections had been stolen from them, he told the crowd, and it was time to take them back. He dubbed his cross-country venture the “hand count road show.”

“Elections belong to us,” he said, emphatically. “Say it!” a woman in the front of the theater yelled out.

The ultimate solution he offered the crowd: Eliminating mail-in voting, counting all ballots cast at polling places on the night of the election, and, most importantly, doing the counting by hand.

Cook is one of several quasi-disciples of Mike Lindell and other big-name election influencers who have been spreading the hand-count gospel around the country since 2020, when Donald Trump began claiming without evidence that ballot tabulating machines were rigged against him.

The push to hand-count ballots is ramping up, albeit with spotty success, as the 2024 election nears, according to a review by The Guardian and Votebeat. If more localities decide to try hand-counting in the November election, results could be inaccurate, untrustworthy, or delayed, fostering more distrust in elections. In places that opt not to hand count, supporters of the practice could use this choice as a reason to question or refuse to sign off on certification.

Either way, it raises the risk of throwing the 2024 election into chaos.

“It just gives additional grounds for calling into question the results of elections when there are no valid grounds,” said Heather Sawyer, executive director at American Oversight. “There’s no good reason to do it. And there’s lots of room for mischief and problems.”

The push hasn’t gained much ground in the large swing counties where Trump claimed votes were stolen from him. It’s been more effective in small or rural counties that voted heavily for Trump, where conservative activists have lined up at public meetings to repeat the conspiracies of Cook, Lindell, and others. There — in Missouri, Nevada, Pennsylvania, Texas, and Wisconsin — local officials voted to give hand-counting ballots a try in either their midterm or presidential primary elections.

These attempts have proven what election experts have long understood: Ditching machines and exclusively hand-counting ballots is time-consuming, expensive, and more prone to human error. It’s also unnecessary. Election officials routinely verify that machines are counting votes properly by hand-counting the results on a portion of ballots after each election.

Most recently, in Gillespie County, Texas, errors were discovered in nearly all precincts after the county tried to hand-count its Republican presidential primary election.

Nevertheless, Gillespie County still plans to hand-count its local runoff election in May. In South Dakota, there are efforts to get hand-counting through local initiatives. And in New Hampshire, one town voted to count ballots by hand after a concerted push by local activists.

This seemingly grassroots effort has sometimes been backed by outside funding and promises of financial support, some from Lindell and others from unknown sources, according to public records and statements reviewed by The Guardian and Votebeat.

Before a California county voted to get rid of its tabulation machines, Lindell wrote to a supervisor that if they “have any pushback, including lawsuits against you or your county, I will provide all of the resources necessary (including both financial and legal) for this fight,” according to documents obtained by American Oversight, a watchdog group that has tracked the hand count movement across the country, and shared with The Guardian and Votebeat.

Lindell told The Guardian he has contributed money to efforts in South Dakota and New Hampshire, but he wasn’t sure how much or how exactly the funds were used. He also features hand-count activists on his online video programs and helps them find donations that way. “Any way I can to get the word out,” he said.

Money wouldn’t come from him personally, but from an affiliated fundraising outfit, the Lindell Offense Fund, he said. His personal financial issues, stemming from lawsuits he faces, are well documented: He couldn’t pay his lawyers in defamation cases brought by voting machine companies.

“I don’t have money to stick in there myself. I’m reaching out to the public. … I’m not a grifter. I’d be the worst grifter that ever lived,” he said.

In Arizona, the push to hand-count ballots has mysterious benefactors, with an unknown source offering money for the legal defense of county supervisors who take on the fight to hand-count ballots, defying state law. Most recently, an elected official in rural Mohave County sued the attorney general, an effort to obtain a court ruling saying that hand-counting ballots is legal. The supervisor, Ron Gould, said in an interview he doesn’t “have permission” to disclose who is paying his legal costs — but so far, it isn’t him.

Mike Lindell influences hand-count push

Inside Pollack Cinemas in Tempe, road show attendees munched on popcorn and sipped sodas as Cook told them about a story he heard from a Texas poll worker. The poll worker told him they watched as a ballot counter on a tabulation machine ticked up one by one, but no one was inserting ballots at the time.

Many in the crowd gasped. “Oh my gosh,” one said.

This claim could have been referencing a viral video which showed an electronic pollbook in Dallas County adding voters after polls closed, which county officials have explained was simply a delay in the system.

Like many who promote hand-counting ballots, Cook subscribes to wide-ranging conspiracy theories about voting, and he told the crowd all about them. Their election officials in Maricopa County, he told them without offering proof, had caused problems during the midterm election so they could “pepper in ballots.” Election officials across the country used messy voter rolls to “inject” “phantom” voters, he said, again without evidence. And COVID-19 was born as a way to increase vote-by-mail across the country, he said falsely, just so the 2020 election could be stolen from Donald Trump.

The solutions he offers are familiar talking points among the Republican leaders who promote hand-counting ballots. They would restrict voting access, such as ending all early and mail-in voting, and purging voter rolls.

Cook credits Lindell with influencing his beliefs. He attended Lindell’s infamous “cyber symposium” in 2021, where Lindell said the “seeds were planted” for people to go back to their states to advocate against machines.

With Lindell’s assistance and coordination, the hand-count pushes have become more systematic.

He tried to rally the troops at a summit in Missouri last August, where he detailed “The Plan,” his step-by-step guide for grassroots groups and activists to convince their local elected officials to ditch machines. He advises them to talk about machine vulnerabilities, voter roll issues, internet connections, and other frequent talking points of the far-right election activist movement. Then, “call for the implementation of hand counts” and prepare to respond to objections.

Cause of America, one of several organizations affiliated with Lindell, says it has “over 300,000 volunteers on the ground going county by county to change laws, remove machines, teach hand count voting and more.” Lindell said he hosts a weekly call with activists across the country to talk about the plan.

Lindell held the 2021 cyber symposium in South Dakota, where activists are now working on gathering petition signatures to put the idea of getting rid of voting machines before voters in two dozen counties. Proponents have so far convinced two counties, Fall River and Gregory, to adopt full hand counts.

Some counties have objected to the petitions, saying the change could violate state and federal law.

“If the voters vote for this ordinance, we will have lawsuits,” McPherson County Auditor Lindley Howard told South Dakota News Watch. “If we illegally deny the petition, then the petitioners will file a lawsuit. I feel like counties were left swimming in an ocean without a lifejacket.”

In New Hampshire, a group used many towns’ “warrant articles” process to try to get rid of machines, filing petitions in nearly two dozen towns to call for a vote on machine tabulation. Activists in the state tried a similar push in 2022, but didn’t get much traction.

Lindell and New Hampshire organizers hoped for a landslide of towns moving to hand counts.

“Imagine the impact for the rest of the state.... Imagine the impact on the rest of our country! God willing, this will be our generation’s ‘shot heard around the world,’” a crowdfunding site for the New Hampshire push says. The crowdfunding page notes that Lindell funded a “digital mobile truck” to advertise for the campaign for six days at $20,000.

But so far just one town, Danville, has approved the petition to hand-count ballots in presidential elections. The town’s attorney told the Associated Press he doesn’t believe the change will stand because it may violate state law.

New Hampshire organizers didn’t respond to a request for comment.

Lindell has featured both the South Dakota and New Hampshire efforts on his online show.

‘No upside’ to hand-counting ballots

There’s a side benefit to the hand count fervor for the broader rightwing election movement: It serves to keep local activists engaged in the leadup to the 2024 election, notes Emma Steiner, who has followed the hand count push for Common Cause.

“It’s basically an objective that they can organize around, that they can lobby their local legislators and officials about, and something that keeps them motivated and their eye on the ball so that they will be available in the game for November,” Steiner said.

In Arizona, far-right lawmakers Sonny Borrelli and Wendy Rogers have traveled the state to spread the word about hand counts. The anti-machine sentiment is still running strong in the swing state, which could decide the 2024 election.

Before Borrelli and Rogers’ tour, Cochise County notably attempted to move to a full hand count, despite a warning from the secretary of state at the time that the move would be illegal. An unnamed source paid a $10,000 legal retainer for two Republican supervisors who had voted for the hand count to happen, according to their statements at public meetings.

Those two supervisors, Tom Crosby and Peggy Judd, then later refused to certify the election, which required court intervention. Crosby and Judd were recently charged by the state for their role in delaying certification.

Judd said in an interview that she wanted to hand count ballots only to appease the crowds that had been showing up to board meetings.

“It was just to show them we have good machines, we have a good elections director, we have a good system here, you don’t have to be worried about Cochise county,” she said.

Judd said she didn’t know who paid the $10,000 legal retainer for the related case.

When asked if he paid the Cochise retainer, Lindell said, “I don’t believe so.”

In Cochise and elsewhere, the hand count push has driven out some elections officials, who have found themselves at odds with their county boards over the practice. Cochise’s seasoned elections director, Lisa Marra, left her job after suing the county for harassment. She eventually received a $130,000 settlement.

When Mohave County, a heavily Republican part of the state, was considering a full hand count of ballots cast in 2024 elections, Borrelli told the local supervisors that unnamed hand count supporters had promised him they’d financially support the county if there was any legal pushback.

Attorney General Kris Mayes, a Democrat, sent a letter warning the supervisors they could be prosecuted for hand-counting all ballots, and the supervisors voted not to move forward. That spurred Gould’s lawsuit against Mayes, asking the court to rule on whether hand counting is legal in the state. In the suit, Gould says that he faced “potentially losing his liberty and being jailed as a criminal, if Defendant Mayes is correct, for voting according to his conscience.”

Gould said in an interview that he sued so that the state would “stop threatening him.” He believes hand counting ballots is legal and would improve voter confidence.

Supervisor Buster Johnson voted “no” to stop the switch to hand counting. Borrelli is now challenging Johnson for his seat on the board in the July primary election, which could change the makeup of the board. Borrelli said in a text message that his run for the seat has “nothing to do with elections.”

In a phone interview, Johnson said he voted no on hand counting because, along with the legal reasons, he said, it would be expensive and error-prone, and it attempts to fix a non-existent problem.

“There is no upside to it.”

Borrelli didn’t respond to a question about the identity of the unnamed supporter who had promised to pay legal costs in Mohave County. Judd said that Borrelli has not offered to pay legal costs for her pending criminal case.

Beyond Arizona, places that recently tried hand counting have found out the hard way about its challenges.

Osage County, a small Missouri county outside Jefferson City, hand-counted a local election in April 2023 as a test of the practice, spurred by activists who convinced the county clerk to try it. Lindell and other activists now cite the Osage count as one of their successes.

But, County Clerk Nicci Kammerich wrote in a local newspaper, the process took longer and cost more in the end, even with a group of mostly volunteers who helped hand count.

Kammerich sent the article to The Guardian after an interview request, saying the hand count issue has consumed her office: “I do not have the time to talk. I get calls and email requests on the daily about this hand count and it has been really interfering with my day to day tasks.”

After the hand count, Kammerich heard from election judges who said they wouldn’t work again if they had to hand count.

“After considering all factors of this election and comparing it to other elections that are similar, I fear that if we were to continue hand counting it would cost us more in time, money, losing volunteers, and accuracy of votes,” Kammerich wrote, adding that her office intends to go back to tabulation machines for future elections.

How the U.S. counts votes

Most of the U.S. votes on paper ballots, which then are fed into machines that tabulate the results. Some places use touch screens, where people vote by selecting options on a screen and then cast printed receipts of their votes into machines. Machine-tabulated results are then verified with a hand count of a small percentage of ballots, with only tight races receiving a full hand recount. Some jurisdictions, typically very small, still hand count paper ballots, though these instances are rare.

The widespread use of machines is relatively recent: the Help America Vote Act, passed in 2002, allowed many smaller areas to afford tabulation machines, said Charles Stewart III, a political science professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Some of the proponents of hand counting may remember when their local elections were counted by hand.

Proponents of the practice often point to other countries, like France, where hand-counting paper ballots is the norm. But local ballots in the U.S. are often much longer and more complex than those in European countries: Americans vote on far more offices, and elections are frequently consolidated, so a voter will weigh in on federal, state, and local elected officials and ballot questions at the same time. Some of these countries don’t use mail-in voting, a more common voting method in the U.S., and they are smaller than the U.S.

“A voter in San Francisco in the presidential election is going to vote on more things in that one election than a citizen of Great Britain will vote on in a lifetime,” Stewart said.

Moving to hand counts brings not only financial and accuracy questions, but also logistical ones: it takes far more people and space than machine counting. In some counties that discussed the idea of hand counts, finding a place to house a big operation to count ballots presented obstacles.

Cook shrugs off these points. If we found a way to do it in years past, he said, we can do it now.

Lindell’s response to the pushback from elections officials: “They’re all wrong. They’re all wrong. … These election officials, they don’t know what they’re talking about. They absolutely don’t. They’re just putting it out there and you media people put it out there as gospel. It’s not true.”

Proponents of hand counting say it’s one way to restore faith in elections, especially among those who don’t trust the results. But whenever people claim an election reform will restore confidence in the process, the evidence typically shows it doesn’t, Stewart, of MIT, said.

“I don’t see any evidence that something like this would be the silver bullet that would restore confidence among the mass public,” Stewart said.

Correction: This story originally misstated who warned Cochise County officials in 2022 that their hand count plan would be illegal. It was the Arizona secretary of state, not the attorney general.

Votebeat reporter Natalia Contreras contributed to this report.

Rachel Leingang is a democracy reporter at The Guardian. Contact Rachel at rachel.leingang@theguardian.com. Jen Fifield is a reporter for Votebeat based in Arizona. Contact Jen at jfifield@votebeat.org.

Votebeat is a nonprofit news organization covering local election integrity and voting access. Sign up for their newsletters here.

Arizona official endures a job that’s 'psychologically unfun' — here's why

On the morning of the first big election he’d ever run, election deniers’ most hated man in Arizona wore an easy smile and downed a Diet Coke while brushing off mean tweets, misinformation and angry emails.

Just like he’s done for the past 20 months.

Maricopa County Recorder Stephen Richer took office in January 2021 and immediately took heat for the 2020 election, which he didn’t run. A Republican, he’s been vehemently defending the county’s elections since then against the fringes of his own party, to the likely detriment of his own political future.

Tuesday’s primary was the first major test of Richer’s work as a recorder. And the election went smoothly in his county, despite what his detractors say.

“They would prefer if we fell flat on our face, which is kind of interesting considering, if you’re rooting against our success, you’re rooting against elections in Arizona,” he said.

While the rampant criticism gets to him sometimes, Richer is driven by an intense belief that he’s doing the right thing by defending the county and its election workers. He’s heard and responded to every claim about the 2020 election; the evidence is on his side. He wants to improve the office before he leaves it. The question is, will that be enough to make him stick around for another term’s worth of pummeling?

Previously a private practice lawyer, Richer ran for office for the first time in 2020 to try to replace Democrat Adrian Fontes, whose election changes drew near-constant ire from the GOP. Richer, at the time, said he wanted to depoliticize the office and relieve it of controversy. He’s instead spent his time in office defending Fontes’ work, and the controversy never ceased.

By the rubric that elections used to be analyzed by, Maricopa County went well: Vote centers opened punctually. Mailed ballots went out on time. People with problems got quick answers. No super long lines greeted voters casting ballots in person. Results were released on time and with updates throughout the night.

Certainly, the election had the kinds of problems all elections have: Printers went down here and there throughout the day. Some tabulation machines needed to be cleaned after ink clogged them. Some voters who insisted they were registered turned out not to be.

“We haven’t delivered on some sort of significant error or confusion,” he said.

While some on the right, like Turning Point USA leader Charlie Kirk, still insist Maricopa County had major problems on Tuesday, most turned their focus to a smaller county south of here, Pinal, where ballots ran out in some precincts.

Arizona’s most vehement 2020 election deniers, like secretary of state candidate Mark Finchem and state Sen. Wendy Rogers, largely won or are leading in their races. Don’t expect that to affect their views on elections much, though.

Despite all the scrutiny that comes along with the job, he doesn’t plan on leaving before his term runs out, as some of his colleagues in other counties have after facing endless harassment.

“We’re at the center of the universe in one of the most important topics in the United States right now, maybe in the world. I try and remind myself of that,” he said. “But of course, I would be lying if I wasn’t sometimes saying like, I signed up for this? I put in $120,000 of my own money [into my campaign] to have people say this type of stuff? But I’m in it now. I’m not a quitter.”

On Election Day, Richer was up at 4:30 a.m. and quickly started answering emails and messages. He dropped in on some polling sites to check out operations, talked to media, answered voters’ questions online, gave Maricopa County Supervisor Bill Gates a tour through the county’s central elections office. Over the course of the day, he drank probably a dozen Diet Cokes to keep him going. The Diet Cokes are a cornerstone of his days — on Twitter, he lists “I (heart) diet coke” first in his bio. By the end of a long Election Day, his desk was littered with empty cans.

But well ahead of Tuesday, it was clear what the biggest scandal of the day would be, and there was nothing Richer could do to quash it.

Pens. Again.

In 2020, it was #SharpieGate, a thoroughly debunked theory — which dogged his predecessor Fontes — that the use of Sharpies invalidated ballots. Under Richer, the county tested out a variety of alternative pens, landing on Pentel felt-tip pens as the ones least likely to gum up tabulators with wet ink, as ballpoint pens do.

Cue #PentelGate and a movement of GOP activists insisting that these pens were also flawed. One candidate running for Maricopa County Board of Supervisors, Gail Golec, told her followers to steal the Pentel pens from their polling sites. Some did. That prompted a letter from Maricopa County Attorney Rachel Mitchell’s office, reminding Golec that stealing is illegal and that encouraging theft of the pens was a “deliberate attempt to interfere with election administration.”

The pen-stealing was an isolated problem, Richer said, and not one that affected anyone’s vote. Poll workers handed out pens rather than leaving them in voting booths. If people wanted to vote with a ballpoint pen instead, they could. They ideally would wait a bit for the ink to dry, but they weren’t required to do so.

Former County Recorder Helen Purcell told Richer this week that the county has used felt-tip pens since 1996, aside from the 2020 election, when it used Sharpies.

“It’s nothing new,” Purcell told Votebeat.

In the day since the election ended, the county has faced criticism that it’s not counting fast enough. For a large county with voting options including mailed ballots, dropping off an early ballot in person, and voting at the polls, it takes time and staff to manage a complicated count and ensure it’s accurate and that signatures match up.

The election results’ release times have largely tracked with previous cycles. The big difference in recent years in Maricopa County is close elections. People don’t wait with baited breath and frustration for results to drop when the result is a blowout.

It wasn’t just the pens. And it wasn’t just in the days leading up to Tuesday.

Since Richer took office in January 2021, he’s faced a barrage of conspiracies about his county’s elections, from Sharpies to dead voters to bamboo-laced ballots. All debunked, all responded to in depth by the county.

The waves of nasty emails increase when far-right website Gateway Pundit writes about the county or him, as they’ve done dozens of times so far during his tenure. He sends the ones that contain certain “special words” to law enforcement, the ones that verge on threats of physical violence.

Richer was accused of being a ballot harvester after security footage showed him picking up a ballot left on the ground and putting it in a dropbox. As an elections official, he can handle anyone’s ballot, regardless of a state law that prohibits the average voter from turning in ballots for people outside their family or people in their care. At the time, he was walking with the sheriff’s office, he said.

“I suppose they could have just cuffed me up right there,” Richer joked.

It’s not all funny to him. It’s sometimes disconcerting. Like the time recently when he was scheduled to speak at an event and had to cancel because of threats to the building. He shared that online because “some people are still behaving as if words and actions have no consequences” when they spread election lies.

And it’s sometimes … weird. He’s gotten a box containing mouthwash in the mail four different times, noting that he should wash his mouth out. It’s always in a beat-up package. (For the record, he hasn’t used the mouthwash.)

The county put up a fence around the downtown tabulation center, the site of protests after 2020 and of a dumpster-diving incident in March 2021. That’s when the fence went up permanently, a visual indicator for the level of additional security needed to protect elections and the people who run them against the ongoing threats.

That part of the job can be “psychologically unfun,” Richer acknowledges, and it’s human nature to fixate on the negative feedback. He mostly hears from people who are upset, which makes him feel like an airline worker: It’s not like people reach out if they had a normal, satisfying flight, he said.

But not everyone directs vitriol at Richer. Some buy him lunch or send him a postcard thanking him. Some at the polls thanked their poll workers, knowing how intense it’s gotten for them.

Most voters, though, aren’t paying much attention to the daily dramas of election administration in the first place. They notice when they have to wait a long time to cast a ballot or if their voting experience didn’t go smoothly, but that’s about the extent of it, he said.

Richer, as the elected official in charge of the office, expects to be put through the “meat grinder,” but it weighs on him when the venom hits his staff. He struggles with whether to beat back a rumor about a staff member, worried about drawing more attention while trying to beat it back. As the boss, he sits down with new hires one-on-one to lay out his three main expectations: treat each other with respect, operate with integrity and help make the office better.

“Regardless of where you thought this office was on January 1, 2021, we want it to be improved by December 30, 2024,” he said.

Some vocal critics of election administrators give Richer credit for his accessibility, even if they want to see more changes to how elections are run and laws changed to restrict voting.

Merissa Hamilton, a right-wing activist and former candidate for Phoenix mayor, is one of them. She’s been critical of election administration for years; her group submitted a list of potentially dead voters to the state attorney general, which netted one prosecution.

She appreciates that Richer will respond to calls, texts, and tweets. She helped a friend who was in the hospital use a special election team to vote this year and noticed ways the experience could have gone much better. Scheduling it required phone calls and documentation instead of a way to submit a form for assistance online, she said. She used a felt-tip pen and reported that it went all right, but said the county should be more accepting of other pens. She would like to see more printers at voting sites to make for a faster experience.

But she thinks Maricopa County’s election went “much smoother” this week than in the past few cycles, and she gives Richer part of the credit for that.

“For what the laws are currently today, and what the entire role of the actual election process is, I think the processes went well,” she said.

For Purcell, the former recorder who was voted out of office after long lines plagued voters during the 2016 presidential preference election, the level and frequency of criticism Richer faces outpaces anything she experienced.

“He’s had much more pressure put on him than any recorder, probably, has had,” she said.

Since he’s an attorney, his ability to analyze and keep a cool head helps him do his job well under the pressure, she said.

“Under the worst of certain circumstances, he’s done a fantastic job,” she said. Though she wonders — about him and others who’ve faced the level of constant criticism he has — whether they’ll run again.

Richer, for his part, says when he asks himself if he really wants to do this job for another term, the answer in his head is sometimes yes, sometimes no, depending on the day.

On Tuesday, as his first big election remained free of significant error and confusion, it was a yes.

Rachel Leingang is a freelancer for Votebeat and co-founder of the Arizona Agenda. Contact Rachel at rleingang@votebeat.org.

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