RENO, Nev. — One morning last month, Cari-Ann Burgess did something completely unremarkable: She made a quick stop at a coffee shop on her way to work.
For Burgess, the top election official in a northern Nevada county, such outings could be precarious. As she waited for a hot tea and breakfast sandwich, an older woman approached.
“She proceeded to tell me that I should be ashamed of myself — that I’m a disgrace, I’m an embarrassment to Washoe County, and I should crawl into a hole and die,” Burgess said in an interview with The Associated Press the following day.
A morning stop at the coffee shop would be no more. It was added to a growing list of things Burgess no longer did because of her job. She already had stopped shopping for groceries and other basic necessities. Meals were eaten at home. If she and her husband did eat out or go shopping, they would travel an hour away from their Reno neighborhood.
“I go to work, I go home, and I go to church – that’s about it,” Burgess said. “I’m very cautious now about where I go.”
Still, Burgess said she was looking forward to November and overseeing the presidential election with her team in Nevada’s second most populous county. That came to an end one day toward the end of September, when she was called into a meeting with county officials.
The county said Burgess requested medical leave to deal with stress and it has referred to her departure as a personnel matter. In a statement, the county said it was “focused on conducting a smooth and fair election.”
Burgess said she was forced out after refusing to go along with personnel changes sought by the county manager’s office. She said she asked repeatedly to stay, even providing a doctor’s note vouching for her health, and has hired a lawyer.
Overseeing the office now is Burgess’ deputy — the fifth person in four years to run the county election operation. The entire staff is new since 2020. The turnover is one symptom of a county that is closely divided politically and has been buffeted by election conspiracy theories since Republican Donald Trump lost the state to Democrat Joe Biden in the 2020 presidential election.
Burgess, in her first public remarks since her abrupt departure, told the AP this past week that she was worried about her team and was at a loss on what to do next. She even put off voting, saying it was a reminder she was no longer part of a process she loves.
“I was giving 110% of who I was, who I am to this job. And then all of a sudden I’m out and I don’t understand,” Burgess said as she considered her next steps. “I don’t understand how we got to this point.”
AP journalists were in Reno in September, a week before her departure, and spent several days with Burgess that included time at the Washoe County elections office and at her home. As with those who preceded her, Burgess and her staff had been in a pressure cooker, subject to biting criticism at public meetings and made to answer conspiracy-fueled claims about voting machines, drop boxes and voter rolls.
Dealing with members of the elected county commission who distrust elections made the job even more difficult.
Burgess was an extreme case of the types of challenges facing local election officials across the United States after four years of false claims that have undermined public confidence in elections and in those who run them. Election workers have faced harassment and even death threats and have taken extra security precautions this year that include adding bulletproof glass and panic buttons.
Over the three days that the AP spent with Burgess, she gave no indication she planned to leave her job. She talked extensively about how she was managing the stress for her, her family and her staff.
“I didn’t think I was going to be in a place that I am now — so front and center and a hotbed for this election, but I am grateful,” Burgess said, sitting in her living room and surrounded by inspirational Bible passages and Christian symbols. “I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’m grateful that I am able to serve my country again.”
Hanging on a wall was a decorative sign that read: “God doesn’t give us what we can handle, God helps us handle what we are given.”
At home on a Friday night, Burgess sat down for dinner with her husband and a close friend whom she considers a brother. Her husband’s prayer over the meal included a request to keep Burgess and her team safe.
“I had no idea what we were getting into, but I know that this is something that’s very important for Cari. She loves her job,” Shane Burgess said after dinner was over. “Sometimes I want to get in the fight, but I know she can handle herself.”
Later, Burgess and her husband discussed plans for the weekend. Burgess wanted to take her husband, a baseball fan, to watch Reno’s minor league team, the Aces, play before the season ended.
“Not if you’re going to be yelled at,” Shane Burgess told his wife as they sat next to each other in matching recliners.
Burgess tried to reassure her husband: “I can wear a hat.”
In the end, they decided not to go.
The Washoe County election office sits inside a complex of government buildings a few miles north of downtown Reno. Burgess’ office, before she left, was adorned with American flags, a copy of the U.S. Constitution and red, white and blue decorative stars that read liberty, freedom and America.
“Election Heroes Work Here,” proclaimed a sign outside her office door.
She was the fourth person to lead the Washoe County election office since 2020, named interim registrar of voters in January in a 3-2 vote by the county commission. Even though her entire office was new, Burgess said she was impressed at how well the staff had performed amid all the pressure of working in a high-stress environment.
“I have an amazing staff who all have their part and who do their job to perfection,” Burgess said.
Across parts of the U.S., local election officials exhausted by the harassment and demands of the job have retired or left the profession entirely. Even Burgess had stopped working in elections after being harassed in public by people upset Trump had lost the 2020 election, even though he had easily won the Minnesota county where she worked at the time.
After that election, she moved to North Carolina and was working at a beachside ice cream shop when she felt called to return to elections while watching fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“I was like, I can’t not serve my country the way I have,” she said. “And coming from elections and knowing elections, I’m like, that’s something I can get back into. I can do elections again.”
Arriving in Washoe County, where the Sierra Nevada transitions to the high desert, Burgess encountered a county mired in voting-related conspiracy theories.
County meetings are often prolonged by members of the public who opposed Burgess’ hiring and who want the county to hand count votes because they don’t trust voting equipment.
“It feels like you’re on the front line, but it’s a different front line. It’s the front line of democracy — not the front line of combat,” Burgess said. “But the way the country is divided at the moment, it feels like combat because every day you’re combatting some misinformation.”
Burgess said a commission vote earlier this year to refuse to certify two recount elections from the state primary hurt morale in the election office. Afterward, she said, two staffers were in tears. There had been no significant issues during voting and no errors when the votes were counted, she said. With the commission under increasing public pressure, it eventually relented and voted to certify.
Every morning, when office assistant Shawna Johnson arrives, she updates the whiteboard with the latest countdowns for early voting and Election Day on Nov. 5. On this day, it was 28 days and 45 days, respectively.
She also makes sure to add one more: “95 days til Christmas.”
“We know what our focus is — it’s getting to early voting and then getting to Election Day,” Johnson said. “But you got to look forward to what happens after all of that. We’ll be able to get back to our normal lives, regular hours, being at home with our families, celebrating holidays.”
A few days before her departure, Burgess had brought in a consultant to lead training for staff on how to manage stress. That included the importance of taking regular breaks, getting enough sleep and building a support network of friends and family.
“Realizing that I have trauma from 2020 and that I have the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), I don’t want that to happen to my team,” Burgess said. “They deserve better. They deserve to know how to take care of themselves.”
At one point, Burgess reminded her team to take some time off because everyone would be working weekends starting the first week of October.
Privately, Burgess acknowledged time off for her staff would likely mean more work for her. In the two months before the election, she expected to be working 13-hour days.
“If they can’t be there, I need to be,” Burgess said. “There’s just that many things that need to get done for an election.”
Among the many things for Burgess to do were security upgrades at the election office.
Around the nation, personal safety and the security of election offices have become top concerns amid threats and harassment of election workers.
Soon after Burgess said she was harassed at the coffee shop, she had a walk-through to discuss security measures to implement before the November election. Among the recommendations was placing a film over glass windows that can slow, but not stop, bullets.
“That’s when I realized I have a lot more dangerous job than I actually expected. It should never, ever be like this,” Burgess said.
Burgess, for the most part, said she kept those concerns to herself. She said she wanted to keep her team focused on running a smooth and secure election. That included making sure poll workers were well trained.
The day of the incident at the coffee shop, Burgess recalled that after she finished working, she closed the door to her office and shut the lights off. She sat on her office couch and prayed for comfort and strength.
“I could go somewhere else where it’s a lot easier,” Burgess said. “I could get out of elections completely. That’s not in me. It’s not in me to leave something I love.”
Less than a week later, she was gone, a decision she said was made for her. And Washoe County, once again, would have someone else in charge of its elections.
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