Landon Morrison, a recovering addict, wanted to tell California lawmakers why they should support legislation he believes will hold troubled drug and alcohol treatment centers accountable.
He was told he would only get two minutes to speak, so he spent hours writing and rehearsing exactly what he wanted to say. But after getting on the road at 4 a.m. for the six-hour drive to Sacramento from Los Angeles County, Morrison didn’t get to say a single word because previous speakers talked for too long.
The committee’s Democratic chairperson, Sen. Caroline Menjivar of Van Nuys, ended testimony in support of the bill after five minutes.
“In a way, this kind of articulated the stigma of addiction. … I’m at the bottom of the line, you know?” Morrison said. “It was just kind of very disheartening.”
Morrison’s experience is hardly unique in the California Legislature as lawmakers try to jam through the more than 2,000 bills lawmakers have introduced so far this year. Over the past two months, CalMatters journalists witnessed more than a dozen examples of committee leaders cutting speakers off midway through their remarks or prohibiting them from talking at all because other people went over the few minutes that members of the public are given to testify.
Lawmakers say the rules are necessary to accommodate the armies of paid lobbyists, political activists and members of the public who flood the Capitol each year to jockey for and against legislation. Lawmakers say they do their best to ensure everyone gets their say while aiming to keep hearings from dragging on well into the night.
“Some bills you get dozens of people. Some bills you get over 100 people,” said Assemblymember Marc Berman, a Democrat representing the Palo Alto area who oversees the Business and Professions Committee. “There is a real attempt to be fair on both sides and to everybody.”
The public comment limits are yet another symptom of lawmakers rushing through thousands of bills in the few months they’re in session in Sacramento – and usually waiting until right before key deadlines to push through the largest volume of bills.
‘Me too’ speakers get only seconds
To try to fit in all those wishing to speak, most members of the public who show up at the Capitol can only express their positions through what’s known as the “me too” portion of a hearing.
After the lead witnesses in support or opposition of a bill each get to deliver two minutes of testimony, others approach the microphone and state their name, organization and whether they support or oppose it. In 2023, legislative leaders stopped allowing people to offer their comments remotely via Zoom as they had during the pandemic.
Lobbyists and other insiders usually know the drill and keep their “me toos” to a couple of seconds so the committee leaders don’t cut them off.
But regular people who might not be familiar with the process regularly get shut down if they speak beyond a few seconds.
That happened to Albert Titman, Sr., a Native American man from the Sacramento area. He came to the Assembly Business and Professions Committee in late April to tell lawmakers why they should oppose a cannabis tax bill he thinks would harm disadvantaged tribal communities.
But he wasn’t designated as a lead witness, so when he tried to speak during the “me too” portion of the hearing, Berman, the committee chairperson, told him to wrap it up.
“Now we’re just at the name, organization and position,” Berman reminded him as Titman grew frustrated.
“There’s not one Native person here,” Titman shot back. “Not one Native person.”
Capitol security ushered Titman away from the mic.
“They shut me down, just pretty much telling me to shut up, you know?” Titman said in an interview. “I wanted to actually sit up there and present my argument, but they wouldn’t allow me.”
Berman said later that he “felt very bad” for how things went with Titman, and he noted he did give Titman a little more time than the other “me too” speakers had. But Berman said he was obligated to keep the hearing moving. If a committee runs too long, it can delay the subsequent committees scheduled to use the same room.
“I try to have a little flexibility, but you can’t let somebody talk for, you know, a minute who’s really just supposed to be providing their name, organization or affiliation and support or opposition to the bill,” he said. “Every time is a dance, and it’s not easy.”
Kathi Zollinger, a volunteer with the Lake Tahoe-based BEAR League, didn’t have security called on her last month when she approached the mic and tried to say why she opposed a bear-hunting bill.
But she was still taken aback when Diane Papan, the Democratic chairperson of the Assembly Parks and Wildlife Committee, cut her off mid-sentence.
