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The best part about my job as a reporter for The New York Times is that it pushes me away from my bubble and into remote parts of the United States. Already this year, I have reported from a remote ice fishing cabin in Minnesota and a dusty border ranch in Arizona. But rarely have I been anywhere as remote as Esmeralda County, Nev., where I spent several days in April and May reporting on an article about election denial that was published online last week.
For the last few months, I have been trying to better understand how widespread conspiracy theories are affecting the county officials who run our elections. First, I interviewed dozens of clerks across the country by phone, many of whom shared their experiences with disinformation and death threats.
Finally, one of the clerks in Nevada told me about an unusual situation that happened in the small Esmeralda County, which has a population of 980 people. votes away from Donald J. Trump in the 2020 Election.
I flew to Las Vegas last month and drove through the desert to the seat of the Goldfield district in Esmeralda County, a city with no hotel, stoplight, gas station or daily newspaper in 100 miles.
Esmeralda County is a beautiful place, where wild horses gallop across the two-lane road, and the jagged rock formations of the Desert Valley bank up against the snow-capped peaks of the High Sierra. It’s also one of the quietest places in America, and people tend to be wary of outsiders — especially if those outsiders happen to be The Times photographers and reporters. More than 80 percent of voters in Esmeralda County voted for Mr. Trump in 2020, and many distrusted the media. At my first interview attempt, a county employee said he wouldn’t talk to me because The Times was “Satan’s mouthpiece.”
I’ve gotten used to skepticism in recent years. I often write articles that feature the voices of people I have never interviewed, and I always aim to spend time with them. I don’t just interview people; I tag along to their work and follow their days so I can watch their lives and listen to their conversations. That’s something to ask, especially in places where you don’t have experience, or don’t trust the media.
When I report on people’s lives, they also report on me. They researched my background, tracked my movements and recorded interviews for their own records. They want assurances that my work will be factual and fair. Although that creates a dynamic that initially feels awkward, I also understand their trepidation.
But what amazes me – in every article, but especially in Goldfield’s – is how the belief has grown over time. I made two trips to Nevada with Times photographer Erin Schaff, and we spent several days with election workers and right-wing activists at the center of our article.
We rode hundreds of miles in the car, shadowed people at work and spent hours in their homes. We ask questions and listen to answers – not from a place of judgment, but from a place of genuine curiosity. We respect and empathize, and they are rewarded. He took us to his favorite meal and poured us cordial after dinner made from fruit from the garden.
Not everything is perfect. On both trips, the tire on my rental car got a flat screw. Maybe it’s the rough roads of rural Nevada. Maybe this is a coincidence. I don’t know. But what I do am that it is very good and decency that lies right below the surface in the country is divided into a lot of skepticism and disbelief. The county clerk offered to lend me his car so I could continue reporting. A janitor at the courthouse ran home to get me a tire-patch kit, and then refused to accept money for it. A far-right activist checked the tire pressure and asked to pray for me before I took off.
I drove out of Goldfield and made it 85 miles to the next gas station. When I checked my phone, I had six text messages from people in Esmeralda County who wanted to make sure I was safe on the way back.
