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In 2018, the Young Americans for Freedom (hereinafter “YAF") at the University of Florida and two of its members sued the University of Florida’s trustees and other administrators under 41 U.S.C. § 2983.[1] YAF alleged—among other things—a deprivation of its First Amendment rights under caselaw requiring viewpoint neutrality.[2] The allegation centered around the University of Florida Student Government’s allocation process.[3] The process gave student groups the opportunity to request funding from a $1 million pool, which was part of the over $20 million Student Government budget obtained through mandatory student fees.[4]

A minor league baseball player drafted outside of the first three rounds of the annual First-Year Player Draft has at best, a 35% chance of making it to the major leagues.[1] During the years in which a player must wade through the muck of minor league baseball, many are only compensated around $400 a week.[2] Although minor leaguers must attend mandatory spring training sessions, off-season workouts, and instructional leagues, these players are only paid during the active months of their respective leagues.[3] At most, these seasons span 5 months.[4] Thus, minor leaguers are often left making less than the federal poverty threshold.[5]

On September 14th, 2022, Patagonia’s 83-year-old founder Yvon Chouinard announced he and his family would be giving away their 100% ownership of the company, valued at around $3 billion dollars.[1] This environmentally-centered effort resulted in the Chouinard family being celebrated as one of the most charitable families in the country.[2] Amidst this praise, however, many have noticed that while the Chouinard’s “gave away” the company, they received considerable value in return.

In 2022, the Supreme Court of the United States decided West Virginia v. EPA.[1] In any other Supreme Court term, West Virginia may have been considered the blockbuster,[2] but in a term that issued landmark decisions on abortion,[3] gun ownership,[4] and religious expression,[5] West Virginia was just one case among a field of other headline grabbers.[6] Nevertheless, West Virginia’s holding and analysis of the Clean Air Act contributes to the continued weakening of a test that has been at the heart of Administrative Law by supplanting it with an obscure test known as the “Major Questions Doctrine.”[7]

In May of 2022, Politico published a leaked draft of the Supreme Court’s decision in the case Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, in which the Court overturned landmark abortion case Roe v. Wade.[1] In the weeks following the leak, Texas Governor Greg Abbott stated that in the wake of overturning Roe, the Court should reexamine and similarly overrule Plyler v. Doe, a landmark Supreme Court case from 1982 which provided undocumented children the right to attend public schools.[2] Abbott later elaborated at a campaign event, explaining that he believed the case should be overturned due to increasing costs that undocumented students have supposedly placed on the state of Texas in recent years.[3]

Healthcare fraud and abuse poses problems for both patients and payers.[1] Circuit Courts are split as to whether a difference in expert medical opinion that certain health services are medically necessary—and therefore payable by the government—is sufficient to establish that the claim for services provided is false or fraudulent under the False Claims Act (FCA).[2] This split stems from the interpretation of “falsity” under the Act.[3] The Supreme Court should adopt the Eleventh Circuit’s “objective falsity” standard in which a clinical judgment cannot be deemed “false” when there is merely a reasonable disagreement between medical experts as to the accuracy of that conclusion.[4] In contrast, the leading case for the opposing view is the Third Circuit’s decision in United States ex rel. Druding v. Druding (2020).[5] It found that the difference in opinion did create a “genuine dispute of material fact as to falsity.”[6]

COVID-19 spiraled into not only a healthcare crisis, but a financial one for both individuals and businesses across the nation. Parties that entered into contracts before COVID-19 were confronted by these hardships. Parties with contractual obligations that were suddenly challenged by lockdowns and a global tragedy steered us into an ideal problem; whether COVID-19 regulations excused performance.

As a society, we deem healthcare decisions as some of the most private and personal information one has. We accept that it is up to the discretion of the individual and their acting physician to create a medical plan best suited for their needs. It’s easy to support these decisions knowing that the individual is doing what is best for them in light of informed medical advice, but once this private decision results in the phrase, “physician-assisted suicide” heads start to turn. Why is that? Each process essentially involves the private decision of making a medical treatment plan with your doctor. It is society’s perception of suicide, paired with the logical longstanding belief that your doctors are here to save your life, not take it away, that closes the door on the conversation. There is no fundamental right to Physician-Assisted Suicide (PAS), but when applied to certain situations, doesn’t this interfere with one’s right to die with dignity, or the right to choose to refuse certain medical treatments?[1] Justice Ginsberg thought so.[2]

As the great Ronald Reagan once said, “All great change in America begins at the dinner table.”[1] Although current case law is vague regarding Fourth Amendment protection to social guests, the gathering of friends and family is sacrosanct and should be secured from governmental intrusion.

On the final day for Kentucky House Representatives to submit bills to the floor, Republican Representative Chad McCoy introduced KY House Bill 9.[1] This bill would amend the Kentucky statute governing charter schools, allowing those schools to receive public funding.[2] In essence, the bill would allow charter schools to become a reality in the Commonwealth. While charter schools have been legal in Kentucky since 2017, none have been opened due to the lack of a “permanent funding stream.”[3] House Bill 9 could potentially divert taxpayer dollars from the Kentucky public schools to charter schools, causing irreparable damage to the Kentucky public school system.

“Child Support, Alimony, she’s eating steak, I’m eating baloney.”[1] This lyric from the 1990 Ray Charles song may seem a bit out of date, which of course it is, much like the Kentucky Child Support Statutes and Guidelines which were implemented the same year.[2] For several years now the family law community of Kentucky has been calling for an overhaul of the statute to elevate it to modern standards. The old guidelines had not been updated to account for the higher costs of raising a child and inflation that has occurred since 1990, nor was there a set guideline for split timesharing arrangements.[3] Finally, in 2021 the Kentucky Legislature revised the Child Support Guidelines.[4] These revised statutes raised monthly obligations and included provisions for dealing with split timesharing, however, it left some critical problems.[5] The fundamental issue with the new statute is that the amount of child support is reduced if there is any deviation from equal timesharing.[6]

The Supreme Court recognized a woman’s right to choose whether to terminate her pregnancy in the landmark case of Roe v. Wade.[i] The decision was grounded in the right to privacy.[ii] The Court reaffirmed Roe in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, relying on the idea that abortion is a liberty protected by the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.[iii] This term, the Court will decide the constitutionality of Mississippi’s abortion law, passed in 2018.[iv] It is widely believed that the Court will uphold the law and might even overturn Roe.[v] This would be a mistake. Even if the Court got it wrong in Roe and Casey, Mississippi’s law is still unconstitutional under the First Amendment’s religion clauses.

The fastest growing and second-largest criminal enterprise in the world is the buying and selling of people — especially children.[1] The average age of entry into the sex trade is 12-14 years old for females, and it is believed to be even younger for boys and transgender youth.[2] Although no state allows for a child under the age of consent to participate in any type of sexual activity, the majority of states still criminalize children as prostitutes.[3] Safe Harbor Laws guarantee that minors are not criminalized for prostitution while also ensuring that victim services are provided to all sexually exploited youth.[4] These services can range from providing food and shelter to offering mental health counseling, substance abuse treatment, and assistance with educational opportunities and finding employment.[5]

$2,035,918,948,953. Do you know what that number is? As of February 20, 2022, there are almost 20 thousand different cryptocurrencies with a market capitalization of $2 trillion.[1] To put this number into perspective, two trillion is about 7% of America’s national debt.[2] $2 trillion is equivalent to two times the market capitalization of Tesla, the sixth-largest company in the world.[3] Two trillion dollars in $100 bills stretch 5.44 times around the Earth’s equator.[4] This growth did not occur overnight.[5] So, why has the IRS just decided to ask this question on our beloved 1040 U.S. Individual Income Tax Return “…did you receive, sell, send, exchange or otherwise acquire any financial interest in any virtual currency?”[6] Well, because the technical architecture of various cryptocurrencies makes it difficult to bring it within existing tax rules.[7]

Chanting, rituals, and pledges, oh my! American Fraternities and Sororities have created a culture that speaks volumes about what young adults are willing to do to fit in. American sports teams are testing their athletes on the field and in the locker room to prove their loyalty. Although these institutions cultivate teamwork, friendship, and dedication, do they also cultivate a “do whatever it takes” mentality to impressing your peers?

The American outdoorsman[1] is an iconic figure at the heart of this country’s history. Outdoorsmen like Davey Crocket, Theodore Roosevelt Jr., and Mardy Murie were arguably as much conservationists as proponents of wildlife management (hunting, fishing, trapping, etc.).[2] Each person listed above embodied an “outdoorsman’s conflict” in balancing natural devastation and conservation.[3] While outdoorsmen have long debated the means to achieve this balance, state and federal governments have echoed similar concerns.[4] These governments not only created a renowned system of wildlife conservation, but allowed outdoorsmen to manage wildlife populations.[5] Scholars have dubbed this system the North American Model of Wildlife Conservation and Management (Model).[6] A complex history of government action has shaped the rights and privileges of outdoorsmen through the Model.[7]

The lockdowns that followed the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic created unprecedented economic hardship for many citizens and businesses across the nation.[1] While most of the country struggled to adapt to the new economic landscape, billionaires saw their collective net worth balloon by more than $2 trillion.[2] The increasing disparity between the upper class and the rest of the United States resurfaced a political push for a federal “wealth tax.” Progressive politicians have justified wealth tax proposals by identifying the need to restore fairness and to generate more revenue.[3] Unfortunately, it is unlikely that a wealth tax would successfully accomplish either of those goals due to the administrative difficulties, the unclear plan on allocation, and the wealthiest individual’s ability to avoid taxation.