An independent investigation into the whereabouts of Texas Representative James Talarico when he allegedly had the flu circled right back to Ohio and a small mental health center nobody had ever heard of before. Now, according to financial records, that center is expanding to a campus four times its current size after a massive “anonymous donation” came in just before the big press release.
The facility, “Buckeye Wellness Partners,” was incorporated in 2019 and has since treated, by its own accounting, “approximately 47 patients.” That number has raised eyebrows among amateur investigators, who note that a center with 47 patients has somehow acquired a 40-acre campus and a parking lot that holds 200 cars. “You don’t expand four times your size for 47 people,” said citizen journalist Nick Shirley, speaking from a rented RV parked outside the center’s main gate. “Unless the 47 people are important. Unless someone needs a paper trail that says ‘yes, this person was here’ without saying ‘here’ where anyone can check.”
Shirley, who livestreamed his investigation for 11 straight hours, claims to have identified what he calls “the smoking gun.” “It looks like they were bribed to falsify records,” he said, holding up a spreadsheet he printed at a Staples. “I guarantee you that when we trace this money, it will be tied to the Deep State. And I know that sounds crazy, but I’ve been saying it for three years and nobody’s proved me wrong yet.”
Financial records show the “anonymous donation” arrived via wire transfer on a Tuesday. The center’s director, in a statement, said the money came from “a donor who wishes to remain anonymous,” which Shirley interpreted as “a confession.” “Anonymity is just secrecy with better branding,” he noted.
Talarico’s campaign continues to deny he received treatment there, insisting he simply “had the flu” and “rested at home.” When reached for comment, a spokesperson added that Talarico “has never been to Ohio” and “also definitely has been to Ohio, depending on which week you’re asking about.”
Constitutional scholar Reno Borja, reached at a Columbus-area Arby’s while his emotional support iguana reviewed the donation paperwork, calculated the improbability. “If you take the 47 patients, multiply by the 40-acre campus, divide by the probability that anyone remembers the flu of 2019, you get a figure that suggests this is either a cover-up or a coincidence, which are the same thing if you’re committed enough.”
