A Donald Trump supporter waits for his arrival at the South Texas International Airport on Nov. 19, 2023, in Edinburg, Texas.
Amid President Donald Trump’s cratering poll numbers,
it’s getting easier to find supporters of his now feeling burned by
their 2024 vote. Here’s a clip that went mega-viral this week, thanks to
this Trump backer’s blunt, self-aware honesty.
But beyond complaints about gas prices or inflation, there’s a
deeper reality taking hold in parts of the country that swung to Trump.
This isn’t about marginal cost increases—it’s about entire communities
getting wrecked.
One example: South Texas.
The Rio Grande Valley—a predominantly Latino region that long leaned Democratic, if with low turnout—shifted toward Trump in 2024.
His law-and-order message and economic promises landed. Republicans saw
it as proof that their party was making real inroads with Latino
voters.
That shift also reshaped the political map. It’s the kind of
region Texas Democratic Senate nominee James Talarico now needs to win
back decisively if he’s going to have any shot at flipping a Senate seat long assumed out of reach.
Now those same communities are dealing with the consequences,
as Trump’s immigration crackdown has crushed the region’s largest
industry: construction.
“I did vote for Mr. Trump. Deporting the criminals is a great
policy,” Mario Guerrero, executive director of the South Texas Builders
Association, told
The New York Times. “These foundations are poured ready to go, and we
can’t even start the construction on them. But we voted for the American
dream. And unfortunately, right now, we’re not seeing that.”
There was never much ambiguity about what Trump meant when he
promised mass deportation. He didn’t limit “criminals” to violent
offenders or serious convictions. His position was explicit: Anyone in
the country without legal status was a criminal and subject to removal.
That distinction mattered, because there was no controversy
over deporting actual criminals. Democratic presidents like Barack Obama
and Joe Biden never shied away from doing that.
In a region where entire industries rely on immigrant labor,
that definition didn’t just target a narrow group. It put an entire
workforce in the crosshairs.
But it was easy to pretend otherwise.
“I’ve supported Mr. Trump in every election that he’s been a
part of,” Guerrero said. “We just never thought that this would come and
affect us in the construction industry, but most importantly, affect
our economy here in South Texas.”
That’s a typical conservative: He starts caring once it
directly affects him, because it was fine when he thought it would just
hurt someone else.
Instead, it’s hitting the workers who actually sustain the
region’s economy. Job sites are stalled. Projects are delayed.
Businesses are shrinking or collapsing. The ripple effects are spreading
outward into the broader local economy.
But there is a political silver lining, and we saw the first signs of it in the Texas primaries two weeks ago.
“Texas Democrats more than doubled their turnout from 2024
during the primary elections on March 3 in the four counties that make
up the Rio Grande Valley,” reported
the Texas Tribune. “In the Valley, that energy could help spare two
incumbent Democratic congressmen whose districts were redrawn to favor
the GOP, and earn the state’s minority party a third congressional
district as well as a statehouse district or two.”
The GOP’s 2024 gains here were treated as a realignment. Now it’s looking more like a detour.
Whether that translates into lasting political change remains
to be seen. But in a region that needs Democratic voter participation in
order to be competitive statewide, Trump’s malicious incompetence may
have finally woken them up.
Here’s the reality:
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A Polaroid of veteran Jason Beaman, right, receiving the citation
for a Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal and a promotion from his
commanding officer.
Mental Health Staff Losses: Hundreds of mental health professionals left the Department of Veterans Affairs since President Donald Trump took office.
Veterans Left Adrift: Veterans are facing an array
of problems: They can’t get the VA to call them back, they see trusted
therapists leave and they can wait as long as six months for therapy.
Providers Feel the Strain: Mental health workers
told ProPublica they left their jobs because of increased work loads,
ethical concerns and new policies that they say undermined care.
These highlights were written by the reporters and editors who worked on this story.
As Jason Beaman recounts his long slog searching for mental health therapy last year, he sounds defeated.
The first therapist assigned to him by the Department of Veterans
Affairs told him at their initial meeting that she was leaving the
agency. A few months later, his second therapist told him she was also
leaving. An appointment with a third counselor was canceled with no
explanation.
These were huge setbacks for the 54-year-old veteran of the Navy and
Army Reserve. Nearly a decade ago, a spiral of depression and anxiety
left him homeless and living on the streets of Spokane, Washington. A VA
social worker threw him a lifeline, helping him apply for benefits,
find housing and get into therapy.
He still needs mental health care, he and his physician say. But bouncing from therapist to therapist has left him exhausted.
“I just quit. I don’t want to mess with the therapist anymore,”
Beaman said. He spends much of his time now alone playing video games or
walking with his dogs.
Beaman,
a veteran of two military branches, gave up searching for a new
therapist after attempting to meet regularly with several different
providers after his move to Nebreska. He eventually met with a therapist
in January, after months of false starts.
After President Donald Trump returned to office last year, his
administration announced plans to overhaul the VA, one of the largest
health care systems in the country, to deliver “the highest quality care.”
“This administration is finally going to give the veterans what they
want,” VA Secretary Doug Collins said last March, as the department
announced tens of thousands of job cuts.
But in interview after interview, veterans across the country told
ProPublica that one year into the second Trump administration it’s
become more difficult to get treatment, as hundreds of therapists and
social workers have left the VA. Many of them have not been replaced.
While front-line mental health care workers were largely exempted
from the job cuts, hundreds chose to leave anyway. Some cited
disagreements with new administration policies, including several
targeting the LGBTQ+ community, while others, facing diminished ranks,
said they simply could no longer provide proper care.
In January, the department had around 500 fewer psychologists and
psychiatrists than it had at the same time last year, ProPublica found.
Although the losses represent a relatively small number — about 4% of
psychologists and 6% of psychiatrists — they are notable for an agency
that has long struggled with inadequate mental health staffing. For years, administrators have listed psychologists in particular among their most “severe staffing shortages.”
Mental health is not the only area where the VA has lost medical staff. The agency has eliminated more than 14,000 vacant health care positions across the system, according to data first reported by The New York Times.
Data published by the VA going back to May 2023 shows that the agency
was adding psychologists every quarter until Trump’s return to the
White House. Then, the trend flipped, with departures outpacing hires in
all four quarters of last year.
Compounding the losses, the agency’s cohort of social workers, some
of whom are licensed therapists who provide mental health counseling,
declined by nearly 700 staffers over the year.
To better understand the departures and their impact on veterans’
care, ProPublica interviewed dozens of former and current VA staffers as
well as patients.
ProPublica also examined a previously unreported internal employee
exit survey, which included hundreds of responses from mental health
care workers.
“Mental Health is understaffed, burned out, and there is not enough
mental health care for the Veterans who need the services,” wrote one
New York-based former employee, according to the records.
“Support is no longer there to provide ethical and good care for
these Veterans,” wrote a second, based in Indiana. “Scheduling issues
are incredibly high due to poor staff hiring and retainment.”
Yet another wrote that the number of new patients seeking help at
their Kansas facility was far too high, making it “unethical to accept
more veterans in our clinics.”
Many of those vacated positions have gone unfilled due to a yearlong hiring freeze, which was only lifted in January.
After Hiring Spree Under Biden, VA Lost Mental Health Staff When Trump Returned to Office
The losses under the new administration amount to 4% of the agency’s
psychologists, 6% of psychiatrists and 3% of social workers.
Note: Quarters are labeled by calendar, not fiscal, year. Source: VA workforce dashboard, internal data.
Echoing the exit survey, many who remain on staff describe crushing
workloads as they struggle to fill the gaps. Those reached by
ProPublica, who agreed to speak only under the condition of anonymity
for fear of retaliation, said that as staffing losses mount, they’ve
seen their patient loads increase, while administrators shorten their
appointments and pack more and more clients into group therapy sessions.
“It was always bad,” said one VA psychologist, referring to staffing
at a facility in Arizona. “And now it’s at a breaking point.”
The therapist described being stretched so thin that schedulers
replaced some one-on-one sessions with online group sessions that
included as many as 35 veterans. The therapist said despite that they
were still overloaded with individual sessions and had to limit each one
to as little as 16 minutes.
The VA declined ProPublica’s request to interview an official
familiar with its mental health programs. In an email, VA spokesperson
Peter Kasperowicz accused ProPublica of attempting to mislead the public
by “cherry picking issues that are limited to a handful of sites and in
many cases were worse under the Biden Administration.”
He argued that the agency’s performance around mental health has
improved since Trump took office, citing more than 15.5 million direct
mental health care appointments in the most recent fiscal year (Oct. 1,
2024, to Sept. 30, 2025), a 4% increase from the previous fiscal year.
He did not say whether those additional appointments were for individual
therapy. Kasperowicz also noted that the administration has opened 25
new health care clinics.
After ProPublica shared its findings and the names of veterans who
would appear in this story, the agency reached out to several to inquire
about their care and offer help. The veterans told ProPublica they
remained skeptical that the VA would consistently respond to their
mental health needs.
As the ranks of mental health care providers at the VA have shrunk,
the department has proposed shifting billions of dollars into community
care, a program in which veterans obtain health care via private
physicians and other providers. But the program has been stretched thin
amid the loss of administrative staff and ongoing issues finding private therapists, ProPublica found, with veterans encountering longer delays as they seek help.
In December, patients waited an average of around 25 days just to
receive a confirmed appointment date, nearly four times the VA’s stated
goal for scheduling community care.
Collins has disputed assertions that there’s a systemwide problem
with access to mental health care. “And if you need emergency care, or
are in a crisis situation, you have immediate care,” he told a Senate
committee in January.
He said the VA’s average wait time for new patients seeking mental
health care appointments was less than 20 days, the number it has set as
its goal. But other VA officials have acknowledged problems with
access.
“There are wait times at some facilities that are beyond what our
expectations and standards would be,” Dr. Ilse Wiechers, assistant
undersecretary for health for patient care services, told senators at a
separate hearing.
ProPublica’s analysis found that wait times fluctuate dramatically,
and fast access to care can depend on location. For example, the small
clinic near Beaman’s home in rural Nebraska, with its comparatively
small staff, saw appointment wait times for new mental health clients
climb as high as 60 days in December and drop to 20 days in February,
according to the VA figures.
But a closer look at the entire VA system reveals that a large number
of facilities are struggling. In early February, more than half of its
hospitals and clinics reported one-on-one mental health appointment wait
times for new patients that were longer, and in some cases far longer,
than the VA’s 20-day goal, according to a ProPublica analysis of data
published on the agency’s website.
In late December, Beaman said he received an email from the VA saying
he’d been approved for additional therapy. He was able to meet with a
therapist in January — after about six months of waiting and going more
than a year without a session. In the interim, he said, he relied on
prescription medications, video games and his therapy dogs to keep him
steady. Still, his anxiety worsened, he said, and now he often feels so
uncomfortable around others that he rarely leaves his home except to
walk his dogs while wearing headphones so no one speaks to him.
Kasperowicz, the VA spokesperson, wrote in his email to ProPublica
that Beaman had “more than a dozen mental health visits at VA between
late 2024 to mid-2025 through the Cheyenne VA clinic” in Wyoming, which
is about an hour-and-a-half trip for Beaman. Kasperowicz declined,
however, to say whether those appointments involved the one-on-one
mental health counseling Beaman had requested. Beaman said he only had
two sessions for one-on-one therapy in 2025 — meetings that were
truncated because of the therapists’ impending departures.
Kasperowicz also said that one of Beaman’s appointments didn’t occur
because he had “moved.” Beaman, however, said he has lived at only one
address in Nebraska.
Experts warn that the exodus of mental health care providers from the
VA has hurt the agency’s ability to meet veterans’ unique needs.
“VA psychologists are best in class,” said Russell Lemle, former
chief psychologist for the San Francisco VA Health Care System and a
senior policy analyst at the Veterans Healthcare Policy Institute. “They
have research and training and decades-long experience” working with
veterans.
“When you lose them, the veterans are the ones who pay the price,” he said.
Michelle Phillips, a Navy veteran, received a pink toy soldier at a Department of Veterans Affairs event.
“It Could Mean Life or Death”
Michelle Phillips, 56, a Navy veteran from Ohio, saw her therapist in
remote sessions once a week for two years for her PTSD. Then, in
December, Phillips’ therapist told her that she was quitting the VA
because of Trump’s policies.
The change, Phillips said, “could mean life or death.”
Years of depression have led Phillips to isolate. Inside her small
home about an hour outside of Columbus, the city where she enlisted in
1988, the walls are filled with reminders of brighter times — photos of
family members and military paraphernalia from her time in the service.
Her only real company is an aging dog, and she almost never leaves.
Her virtual therapy sessions were “the only contact that I had coming
in my home to talk to me every week,” she said. “And I would sit and
just wait for that appointment.”
Phillips said the counselor requested that the VA continue her
one-on-one remote counseling with a new therapist — which totaled about
four hours per month. The agency initially offered her virtual group
therapy, an option that her previous therapist dismissed as
inappropriate. In the third week of January, the VA told Phillips she
could have an appointment for one-on-one sessions in March. She later
declined the appointment because she didn’t want to face starting over
with a new therapist.
Phillips, who is disabled and doesn’t work, said she will try to pay
for one-on-one therapy out of pocket with the same therapist who left
the VA but will likely only be able to afford one, possibly two,
sessions a month.
Phillips
was sent an iPad by the VA for her remote therapy sessions. It sits
unused since Phillips’ VA therapist told her that she was quitting.
James Jones said his close connection to his VA therapist, who was
trained in combat trauma, helped him control his PTSD-fueled episodes of
anger and alcohol abuse. Now the 54-year-old Gulf War veteran, who
lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, has seen his care
cut in half after his therapist told him colleagues had quit and he had
to pick up the load.
His sessions went from an hour every week to half an hour every two
weeks. “I can tell it’s rushed,” said Jones, a maintenance mechanic with
the National Park Service. “I’m not able to work through something.”
Others have found it difficult to establish care in the first place.
Last summer, George Retes, 26, who left the Army in 2022 after
serving for four years, was driving to work in Camarillo, California,
when he was suddenly caught between immigration agents and protesters.
Retes said the agents broke his car window, pepper-sprayed him and
detained him for days. The incident, which ProPublica detailed last fall,
left him shaken and exacerbated the PTSD that was first sparked after
he faced missile attacks in Iraq, Retes said. (The Department of
Homeland Security has not responded to ProPublica’s questions about
Retes.)
Following his release, Retes found himself withdrawing from the
world. “I wasn’t texting anyone or talking to anyone,” he said. “Not
even my kids.”
A few weeks after being arrested, Retes sought help from the VA
clinic in Ventura, California, where staffers told him they’d be in
touch for an appointment. But Retes said he never heard back, even after
he called to follow up. His incident with Immigration and Customs
Enforcement was in July. Retes is still waiting.
According to data on the VA’s website, new patients seeking
individual therapy at the Ventura clinic had to wait an average of two
and a half months in early February.
The VA said it could not discuss Jones’ or Retes’ accounts because the veterans declined to waive their privacy rights.
Strains on the System
The VA overhaul has also taken a toll on mental health providers, many of whom quit after spending years at the agency.
Natalie McCarthy worked as a social worker and mental health
therapist for a decade before quitting the VA in May. Like many others
working in mental health, she did all of her work remotely; from her
Ohio home she saw vets mostly from the Washington, D.C., area.
But McCarthy and her colleagues faced pressure to return to agency
offices after the VA issued new restrictions on telehealth workers. She
was uneasy about the prospect of having to conduct sessions in makeshift
spaces like conference rooms filled with other counselors — a situation
that raised widespread ethical concerns over the legally mandated
privacy for medical conversations.
Complicating matters, McCarthy said, were Trump’s orders eliminating
diversity and equity initiatives within the federal government. She said
she began to worry that therapists would no longer be able to discuss
the subject of race with their patients or document patients’ thoughts
on the topic in their session notes. So she quit.
“I was angry that veterans were in that position,” said McCarthy, who
started her own practice. “I was angry that I was in that position. It
just felt like an unnecessary thing to have to navigate.”
Psychologist
Mary Brinkmeyer quit working with the VA last February after her
superiors began enforcing the Trump administration’s anti-diversity
agenda.
Psychologist Mary Brinkmeyer found herself in a similar situation.
She started at a VA facility in metropolitan Norfolk, Virginia, in 2022
after seeing a posting for an LGBTQ+ care coordinator, which oversees
support programs for LGBTQ+ veterans and helps navigate their care. She
quit last February after her superiors began enforcing Trump’s
anti-diversity orders.
Brinkmeyer said she was told to stop conducting training for
physicians and other staff on best practices for caring for LGBTQ+
patients. Then, she said, staff members were ordered to remove all
LGBTQ+ paraphernalia from the facility such as rainbow flags,
identity-affirming literature and program brochures. Also, an edict was
issued directing people to use the bathroom of their gender assigned at
birth, Brinkmeyer said.
That’s when the VA stopped feeling like a welcoming place. “There was a failure of empathy,” she said.
The VA did not respond directly to either Brinkmeyer’s or McCarthy’s
accounts of how the administration’s policies had impacted the quality
of mental health care.
Much like those seeking mental health care directly from the VA,
veterans referred to community care are also struggling to secure
appointments.
Gwyn Bourlakov, 58, enlisted in the Army National Guard in 1998 and
over the following 21 years she was awarded a Bronze Star for her
service in the invasion of Iraq, climbed the ranks to become a major and
won a Fulbright scholarship to study Russian history.
Today, after a series of professional setbacks, Bourlakov works as a
museum security guard. Lingering PTSD from her time in the service,
coupled with deep bouts of depression over her current circumstances,
have kept her seeking the VA’s help despite long-standing frustrations
with its services.
After she began looking for a new therapist last year following a
move to Colorado, officials at her local VA clinic in Golden said at her
intake appointment that its in-house providers were swamped and could
not see new patients for at least six months.
She asked if she could get help through community care, but staffers
told her that the system was so overwhelmed that it would be a
“nightmare,” she recalled. Veterans living in eastern Colorado waited 57
days on average to get a community care appointment scheduled in
December, VA figures show.
Bourlakov said she tried to get help through a separate VA clinic,
but when her phone calls went unanswered, she finally gave up.
“I don’t have time for all of that,” she explained. “It’s just like shouting into the wind.”
Gwyn
Bourlakov gave up looking for care through the VA after a series of
unanswered calls and attempts to find help went nowhere. After inquiries
by ProPublica, VA authorities reached back out to offer her assistance.
Following inquiries from ProPublica, VA officials reached out to
Bourlakov and other veterans interviewed for this story to offer
additional assistance with their mental health care. The calls left
several frustrated, saying it shouldn’t take questions from the media
for them to get help from the VA.
Though skeptical, Bourlakov decided to move forward. She was
contacted by three separate VA representatives in February asking about
her health and if she needed help scheduling a therapy appointment.
The earliest telehealth appointment they offered was not until June,
she said. The next available in-person slot was not until July.
Bourlakov opted for June.
What We’re Watching
During Donald Trump’s second presidency, ProPublica will focus on
the areas most in need of scrutiny. Here are some of the issues our
reporters will be watching — and how to get in touch with them securely.
If you don’t have a specific tip or story in mind, we could still use your help. Sign up to be a member of our federal worker source network to stay in touch.