Those darn property taxes! Insights from Texas tax protests
What motivates people to protest their property tax? New study looks into people’s propensity to protest their taxes, or not.
20-Nov-2020 4:25 PM EST, by University of California, Berkeley Haas School of Business
Newswise — Everyone loves to complain that their taxes are too high. Yet few people actually take the time to formally protest them.
A recent deep-dive into property tax appeals in Texas offers new insights on what motivates people to protest or accept their tax obligations.
“Historically, the study of people’s support for taxation was limited to survey data, asking people whether they prefer higher or lower taxes,” says Berkeley Haas Assoc. Prof. Ricardo Perez-Truglia says. “However, some individuals may say that they want higher taxes but, when the stakes are real, they may not put their money where their mouths are.”
Some individuals may say that they want higher taxes but, when the stakes are real, they may not put their money where their mouths are. —Ricardo Perez-Truglia
In his National Bureau of Economic Research working paper, Perez-Truglia worked with Brad Nathan and Alejandro Zentner from the University of Texas at Dallas on unique field experiments that measured how different types of information affected people’s propensity to protest their taxes. Through this first-hand look at how people actually behave when it comes to protesting taxes, they found that people are generally motivated by self-interest—but that can be dampened when they find out they’re paying less than their neighbors. They also found substantial differences between Democrats and Republicans.
Dallas County tax protests
The researchers conducted their experiments in Dallas County—the second largest county in Texas, with a population of about 2.6 million. Given that the state has no income tax, property taxes provide a large source of revenue. The average household currently pays about 2% of their home’s market value annually, or about $6,000. Yet local rules allow residents to appeal their tax bills. This year, 8.4% of households filed a protest on their own, and an additional 8.4% filed a protest with the help of an agent. The researchers estimated that around half of all protests were successful; those who prevailed got a $600 tax-bill reduction, on average.
Perez-Truglia and his co-authors were interested in why people make the decision to protest or not. They first examined whether higher tax rates led to more protests, which would support the idea that homeowners act in their own self-interest. Due to a rule in the Texas property code that lets homeowners apply for “homestead” status, which caps increases in the appraised value of their primary residence at 10% per year, the researchers were able to compare homes that fell under that cap with those that didn’t. That allowed them to calculate that the probability of protesting does increase by about 3.7 percentage points per a 0.1 percentage point increase in the tax rate cap.
Hassle costs
Next, they looked at what prevents people from filing protests. There’s no fee requirement, but it does take time to learn how to submit an appeal. To examine these hassle costs, the researchers randomly sent letters to certain homeowners with information on how to file a protest. Some people received letters with a step-by-step guide on how to file an appeal, while others got additional information on how to argue for why their property taxes should be reduced. The letters were customized with the homeowners’ name, a suggested argument that the property was worth less than the assessed value, and a mention of websites like Zillow and Redfin, where people can look up prices of comparable properties. (The letters were labeled as coming from a University of Texas research study and included a url where people could find more information.)
Among those households which didn’t receive any letter, about 9% filed protests on their own. The group that received the basic information on how to appeal increased their probability of protesting by about 1.8 percentage points. Meanwhile, the group that received more details on how to form an argument filed protests at a rate 3.5 percentage points higher than the control group—which represented a 40% increase. This implied that a large reason for why homeowners did not file protests was due to the extra work it took to figure out how to file. Using these results, the researchers calculated that the hassle costs were about $226 on average. Given that only about half of appeals are successful—making the average benefit under $300—this suggests that the costs of filing likely outweighs the benefits.
But what do the neighbors pay?
The researchers also examined whether people considered how their decisions related to broader social goals. In letters sent to an additional group of homeowners, they included information on the county’s average tax rate. They did this to explore whether people are willing to accept their assessed tax rate if they know others are facing even higher burdens—a phenomenon that economists call conditional cooperation. Indeed, they found that giving people additional information on what other residents pay decreased the likelihood that they would file a protest. In sum, they estimated that a 0.1 percentage point increase in the tax rate would increase the likelihood that an individual household would file a protest by almost 10 percentage points. But if taxes were raised countywide by 0.1 percentage point, then the household’s likelihood of protesting would only increase by about 6.4 percentage points.
Finally, the researchers also analyzed differences by whether people were registered as Democrats (about 55% of the county’s homeowners) or Republicans (about 45% of homeowners). Both voter groups responded to information about the benefits and costs of protesting, but Republicans were more likely than Democrats to increase their rate of protests after receiving the detailed letter. However, Perez-Truglia noted that the differences were not as great as our political rhetoric suggests.
Survey data shows that Republicans and Democrats are worlds apart in their support for taxation, but our preliminary findings suggest that those differences are more modest when you look at their behavior. —Ricardo Perez-Truglia
“Survey data shows that Republicans and Democrats are worlds apart in their support for taxation, but our preliminary findings suggest that those differences are more modest when you look at their behavior,” Perez-Truglia says. “I see this finding as good news: there may be a lot more room for agreement than what the survey data (and the media) may suggest.”
New York, NY – It was a decision guaranteed to ignite outrage, and ProPublica knew it. In the middle of a volatile national debate over immigration enforcement and federal authority, the nonprofit newsroom chose to publicly identify the federal agents involved in a fatal shooting, pouring gasoline on an already raging fire.
On January 24, 2026, Alex Pretti was shot and killed during an anti immigration enforcement protest in Minneapolis. Ten shots were fired in less than five seconds. The shooting occurred amid Operation Metro Surge, a federal deployment of immigration agents to urban areas that has drawn intense public opposition and repeated demonstrations. Days later, ProPublica published a story naming the Border Patrol and Customs and Border Protection agents who fired the shots.
We will not repeat those names here. We will not contribute to a situation that places federal agents and their families at heightened risk of harassment, threats, or violence.
The ProPublica story was authored by reporter J. David McSwane (202-556-3836), who, unlike the agents he identified, voluntarily used his own name. He also voluntarily publishes his contact information. ProPublica defended the decision in a public note from its editors, arguing that disclosing the agents’ identities served the public interest and promoted accountability. According to the outlet, officials had not released key information quickly enough, and anonymity, they argued, shielded those involved from scrutiny.
That justification has not satisfied critics across the country, particularly given the timing and political climate surrounding the case. The agents involved were placed on administrative leave, and the Department of Justice Civil Rights Division opened an investigation into the shooting. Those processes were already underway when ProPublica chose to publish the names.
The shooting itself unfolded in the early morning hours on Nicollet Avenue. Pretti, a 37 year old nurse and military veteran, arrived at the protest site as federal agents were conducting immigration related arrests. Video footage shows Pretti holding a phone and recording officers as they interacted with civilians. A confrontation followed.
According to publicly available video timelines, Pretti was pepper sprayed, pulled into the street, and restrained by multiple federal agents. During the struggle, a firearm was present. Moments later, shots were fired. Pretti was struck multiple times and pronounced dead at the scene.
Federal officials stated that Pretti was armed and that agents fired their weapons during a struggle while carrying out their duties. Forensic audio analysis later confirmed that ten shots were discharged in under five seconds. The precise sequence of actions and decisions leading to the shooting remains under investigation by federal authorities.
What is not under investigation is ProPublica’s editorial choice. By naming the agents while emotions were raw and protests ongoing, the outlet ensured that the focus would shift away from institutional review and toward individual targeting. That shift was immediate.
Social media reaction to the story was fierce. Some praised ProPublica for what they described as courageous transparency. Others warned that the publication had effectively doxxed law enforcement officers in the middle of a national political firestorm. One widely shared post accused the reporter of placing “a target” on the agents and their families. The debate quickly devolved into ideological trench warfare.
This is not an abstract concern. In recent years, law enforcement officers across the country have faced harassment, threats, and attacks following the release of personal information online. Families, spouses, and children often bear the brunt of that exposure, despite having no connection to the incidents in question.
ProPublica maintains that accountability requires identification. But accountability in the American system is not crowdsourced outrage. It is established through investigations, evidence, and due process. Those mechanisms were already in motion. Publishing names did nothing to advance the investigations themselves. It did, however, amplify public pressure and personal risk.
This moment underscores a troubling trend in modern journalism. Activist outlets increasingly blur the line between reporting and advocacy, treating exposure as an end in itself. In doing so, they often dismiss the real-world consequences of their choices, particularly when those consequences fall on people deemed politically acceptable targets.
The death of Alex Pretti is serious and tragic. It deserves a full accounting, grounded in facts and resolved through lawful processes. Federal agents, like any other government actors, must be held to the same legal standards. But they are also entitled to due process and basic personal safety.
By choosing to name the agents before investigations are complete, ProPublica did not simply report on the story. It became part of it. And in doing so, the outlet raised a question that now hangs over its own newsroom: when journalism knowingly endangers lives, who holds the journalists accountable?
Arlington, TX – Federal agents, local police, and two SWAT teams swept through the city and surrounding suburbs in a coordinated takedown of what authorities describe as one of the region’s most violent street gangs. 21 alleged members of the “Kiccdoe” gang were rounded up, ending a violent spree that officials say included drive-by shootings, retaliation murders, drug trafficking, and years of terror in Arlington neighborhoods.
According to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Texas, federal complaints filed on November 4 led to the arrests, with all suspects in custody by November 7. Seventeen defendants made their first court appearances that Friday, with the remaining individuals appearing the next day. The arrests stem from a joint investigation by the FBI’s Dallas Field Office and the Arlington Police Department, which began examining Kiccdoe’s activities in April 2024 after a gang member was shot and killed on an Arlington high-school campus. The homicide sparked a string of revenge shootings between Kiccdoe and rival gangs, accelerating the urgency of the investigation.
Authorities allege that the organization, which traces its roots to the 600 block of East Arkansas Lane, spent the past three years building its identity around violence, intimidation, and a steady pipeline of narcotics. Court records show that alleged members promoted their affiliation using identifiers such as “Kiccdoe,” “KDN,” “6,” and “600,” often displayed on social media, clothing, and even in self-produced music videos. Investigators say these symbols weren’t just branding—they served as recruitment tools and public declarations of allegiance.
The Justice Department’s complaint outlines a broad racketeering enterprise. To maintain standing within the gang, members were expected to commit “stripes”—violent acts carried out to boost the group’s reputation and enforce control. Federal prosecutors list one murder, six attempted murders, nine robberies, numerous assaults with deadly weapons, and persistent trafficking of fentanyl and marijuana among the offenses tied to the enterprise. The overarching goal, according to prosecutors, was simple: expand territory, increase profits, and keep the community terrified enough not to resist.
The federal charges range from RICO conspiracy and murder in aid of racketeering to drug-distribution conspiracies and firearms violations. Those charged include individuals as young as 18 and as old as 22, many of them already known to Arlington police for previous violent encounters. The Justice Department emphasized that charges remain allegations and that each defendant is presumed innocent until proven otherwise. If convicted, some face up to life in federal prison.
This federal push followed years of strained local resources. The Arlington Police Department reports that since January 2022 it has documented at least 180 criminal incidents involving Kiccdoe members—everything from aggravated assaults and burglaries to shootings and narcotics offenses. While APD had previously filed state charges against several members, Chief Al Jones said the department needed a more powerful tool to halt the gang’s growing influence. In 2024, Arlington police formally approached the FBI to pursue federal RICO charges—an effort that culminated in last week’s sweep.
Chief Jones praised the operation, declaring, “Our city is safer with these individuals off the streets.” FBI Dallas Special Agent in Charge R. Joseph Rothrock echoed that sentiment, crediting the partnership between federal and local agencies for what he described as a significant blow to violent crime in the region. Acting U.S. Attorney Nancy Larson similarly emphasized the importance of joint operations and vowed that federal prosecutors “will continue to pursue justice against brazen offenders who terrorize our communities.”
The investigation and arrests fall under Operation Take Back America, a national Department of Justice initiative aimed at dismantling violent gangs, drug networks, and transnational criminal organizations through coordinated federal action. The operation brings together multiple law-enforcement efforts, including OCDETF and Project Safe Neighborhoods, to target high-impact criminal groups.
The case now moves into the federal courts, where prosecutors will begin presenting evidence gathered over the nearly two-year investigation. For Arlington residents who have endured drive-bys, school-campus violence, and open drug dealing, the arrests mark a turning point—one that many hope signals a more assertive federal posture against gangs operating in suburban Texas communities.
Those charged in the complaint include:
• Michael Mensah, 18, of Grand Prairie, Texas, charged with conspiracy to conduct the affairs of an enterprise through a pattern of racketeering (RICO conspiracy), assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Raphael Opare, 19, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Dillen Opare, 20, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Isaiah Wiley, 21, of Dallas, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder and assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance, and possession of a firearm in furtherance of a drug trafficking crime.
• Kyron Oates, 22, of Grand Prairie, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance, and possession of a firearm in furtherance of a drug trafficking crime.
• Vernell Woods, 19, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• DeMarco Westmoreland, 19, of Mansfield, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder and assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Cortez Atkinson, 18, of Fort Worth, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder and assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Bradley McArthur, Jr., 21, of Fort Worth, Texas charged with RICO conspiracy, assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• DaTraven Warren, 18, of Mansfield, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to commit murder in aid of racketeering.
• Sadedrick Wilson, 22, of Fort Worth, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Joseph Hill, 18, of Fort Worth, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Chauncey Ross, 22, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, murder and assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance, and possession of a machine gun in furtherance of a drug trafficking crime.
• Marcus Shaw, 20, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• KeyShawn Burton, 20, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• LaMarion Austin, 21, of Dallas, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Blake Aaron Scott, 22, of Arlington, Texas, charged with RICO conspiracy, assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering, and conspiracy to distribute a controlled substance.
• Sir James Mack Williams, 21, of Arlington, Texas, charged with conspiracy to commit murder in aid of racketeering.
• Jaylen Jeshawn Franklin, of Arlington, Texas, 22, charged with conspiracy to commit murder in aid of racketeering.
• JaMarion Manogin, 20, of Forney, Texas, charged with assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering and discharge of a firearm in relation to a crime of violence in aid of racketeering.
• Jakayla Totten, 21, of DeSoto, Texas, charged with assault with a dangerous weapon in aid of racketeering.
Featured
Texas School Districts’ VATRE Blitz: A Choreographed Push for Your Wallet, Courtesy of the Insider Crowd
Texas – A School District Near you – Lone Star parents and taxpayers, grab your red pens—it’s election season, and the school district overlords are back with a familiar script. This November 4, 2025, voters across the state will face a barrage of Voter-Approval Tax Ratification Elections (VATREs), those sneaky little ballot measures dressed up as “local funding opportunities.”
But here’s the rub: From the sprawling suburbs of Rockwall to the dusty plains of Abilene, the pitch sounds eerily identical. Same boilerplate language, same sob stories about teacher retention and “safety measures,” same implication that saying no means dooming the kids to cardboard classrooms. Coincidence? Or the handiwork of a well-oiled machine, whispering talking points into the ears of beleaguered superintendents?
Take Rockwall Independent School District, for instance. Their glossy VATRE 2025 webpage hits you with this gem: “A Voter-Approval Tax Ratification Election (VATRE) is a local school funding election that asks voters whether or not they authorize the school district to access the maintenance and operations tax rate to create additional local funding and additional state funding to be used for specific purposes. Unlike a school bond election, a VATRE does not create new debt for the district. Instead, it provides funds for additional local funds that can be used for recruitment and retention, special education and student programs, and safety and security measures.“
Sound folksy? Patriotic, even? Now flip over to Judson ISD in San Antonio, and—bam—it’s a near-verbatim echo: the exact same assurance that this isn’t debt, just “additional local funds” for the usual suspects like special ed and security.
Hawkins ISD up north? Ditto, word for word.
Hurst-Euless-Bedford ISD is chasing $20.6 million to plug a $12 million hole, and their referendum spiel? You guessed it—recruited from the same Rolodex.
This isn’t organic outrage bubbling up from PTA meetings. It’s a symphony, conducted from the shadows of Austin’s lobbying lounges. Enter the Texas Association of School Business Officials (TASBO), the self-appointed sheriffs of school spreadsheets. Founded in 1970 as a “professional association” for the bean-counters and budget mavens running Texas’ 1,200-plus districts, TASBO bills itself as a neutral force for “excellence in school business management.”
In reality? It’s a powerhouse lobby, armed with toolkits, webinars, and conference swag that turns harried CFOs into tax-hike cheerleaders. Their Voter-Approval Tax Rate Election Toolkit—complete with checklists, deadline calendars, and pre-fab messaging—practically hands districts a Mad Libs version of the script we’re seeing statewide. Why reinvent the wheel when TASBO’s got the one-size-fits-all spin on why your property taxes need another squeeze?
The timing couldn’t be more convenient. Just this summer, TASBO rolled out their 2024-25 Budget Cohort for Texas District Leaders, a full-day confab on June 18, 2025, at the Arlington Convention Center—tucked into their Summer Solutions Conference. There, amid the PowerPoints on post-legislative tweaks, business officials got the lowdown on “Effective Budget Presentations and Meetings to Adopt Budget and Tax Rate.” Translation: How to sell a VATRE without the voters smelling the rat.
Fast-forward to today, September 30, 2025, and TASBO’s dropping their “Overview of the 2025-2026 TASBO Master Calendar Webinar“—a virtual love-in to stay laser-focused on those “critical annual deadlines,” and election hustling come November. Recorded for posterity (and CE credits), it’s catnip for the compliance crowd, ensuring every district toes the line with TASBO-approved patter.
Why does this matter to constitutional conservatives who still believe in limited government and the 10th Amendment’s nod to local control? Because VATREs aren’t the benign “voter choice” they’re cracked up to be. Sure, they don’t pile on new bonds—praise be for small mercies—but they do unlock that compressed M&O tax rate, siphoning an extra 4 to 8 cents per $100 valuation straight from your pocket through direct taxation. Carroll ISD wants three cents to dodge a “trustee emergency” after blowing through $37 million.
Northwest ISD? Same three-cent plea, promising to “reduce class sizes” while conveniently ignoring enrollment booms they could’ve planned for.
Kingsville ISD eyes $2 million in “savings” to offset a $4.2 million deficit, but let’s be real: These windfalls often vanish into administrative bloat or pet projects, not the front-line heroes districts love name-dropping.
Abilene ISD‘s board just greenlit a $3.4 million VATRE grab, citing $10 million in state shortfalls that somehow ballooned to $37 million locally—because math in government is more art than science.
Judson ISD dangles $21 million in “additional funding” to offset a debt-service dip, but even they admit it’ll hike taxes by 4.5 cents—unless you buy their line about it being a “reduction” thanks to homestead exemptions.
Coppell ISD and Spring Hill ISD are in the mix too, touting $24 million and competitive salaries, respectively, as if Texas’ teacher shortage is a VATRE away from utopia.
Santa Fe ISD? Theirs will “maximize” funding by $9 million but slash the overall rate by 4 cents—smoke and mirrors to make you feel like you’re winning while the district cashes the state match.
Boerne ISD‘s two-cent bump nets them $4.8 million; Alvarado ISD‘s unanimous board call chases similar scraps; La Vernia ISD parrots the script to the letter.
It’s a statewide avalanche—dozens of districts, hundreds of millions on the line, all marching to TASBO’s drumbeat.
Folks, this isn’t democracy; it’s astroturfing with your dollars. TASBO and their special-interest bedfellows—the Texas Association of School Boards, the education unions—aren’t elected, but they’re scripting the show. They frame VATREs as a bulwark against Austin’s stinginess, but dig deeper: It’s a workaround for the very tax compression conservatives fought for, turning “limited government” into “just enough to keep the lights on… and the lobbyists paid.“
As your ballot arrives, remember: A no vote isn’t anti-kid; it’s pro-taxpayer. Demand transparency—real audits, not TASBO check-the-boxes. And if your district’s recycling their lines like a bad country song, ask who handed them the lyrics. In Texas, we don’t do scripted surrenders. We vote our consciences, one district at a time.