NewsNation’s Rich McHugh opened his report from Lewiston, Maine, with a blunt line: what he found was “disturbing.” He said this community lived through one of the worst mass shootings in the country’s history, and then had to relive the pain when questions surfaced about where the donation money went afterward.
Elizabeth Vargas, hosting Elizabeth Vargas Reports, framed it as a NewsNation exclusive tied to a bigger theme of accountability, saying Lewiston residents are calling for answers after money meant for victims “instead went” to Somali-linked nonprofits.
The core complaint, as McHugh laid it out, is that donors and victims were told one thing – then the distribution looked very different once people dug into the records.
McHugh said the outrage has two layers: first, that a large chunk of money did not go to victims, and second, where that chunk ended up. He reported that nearly 30% of the donations – about $1.9 million – went to 29 different nonprofits rather than directly to survivors and families, and he said the families he spoke with are demanding clear explanations.
This story lands like a second strike because it isn’t about politics in the usual sense; it’s about a basic human expectation. When a community is grieving and the country responds with help, people assume the help will land where it was promised, especially when the promise is stated in plain language.
What Lewiston Families Say They Were Told
McHugh’s report returned to the October 2023 shooting in Lewiston, where 18 people were killed and 13 were wounded, with victims ranging from age 14 to 76. He said a local nonprofit effort was created in the aftermath, promising donors that “100%” of money would go to victims and survivors.
One of the voices McHugh featured was Jennifer Zanca, a nurse who said she was shot twice during the attack and tried to stop herself from bleeding out by applying pressure to her own wounds.
Zanca told McHugh that the message was repeated in person and in writing, saying they were told in a school auditorium that night that 100% would go to victims, and that she later received an email saying the same.
McHugh described the fund as the Lewiston-Auburn Area Response Fund, established by the Maine Community Foundation. In his reporting, the email language was clear enough that survivors believed there was no catch, no hidden second purpose, and no quiet diversion into other projects.
Amy Sussman, whose nephew Max Hathaway was killed, told McHugh she started investigating after time passed and the numbers did not feel right. McHugh reported that Sussman uncovered that $1.9 million went not to victims, but to 29 nonprofits, including groups serving immigrant communities.
Sussman’s grief comes through in the way she spoke about Hathaway. She told McHugh her nephew was a married father of two with another child on the way, and that he had just received his college diploma in the mail, so the family went out to celebrate before he was killed.
There’s a cruel detail here that sticks in the mind: a diploma in the mailbox, dinner plans, and then a tragedy that split time into “before” and “after.” When families like Sussman’s hear “100%,” they don’t hear a marketing phrase – they hear a vow that the help is meant for the people carrying the worst part of the burden.
Where The Money Allegedly Went
McHugh said nine of the 29 nonprofits listed were organizations that serve immigrant communities, and he named several: Empowered Immigrant Women Unite, Generation Noor, New Mainers Public Health Initiative, the Somali Bantu Community Association, and Gateway Community Services. He reported that Gateway received $65,000 from the fund.
McHugh added a serious point that raises eyebrows: he said Gateway Community Services has been accused of misusing taxpayer funds, and that after NewsNation’s reporting, Homeland Security visited the organization. He also reported that the organization’s executive director, Nathan Davis, served on the fund’s steering committee.
The Maine Community Foundation declined McHugh’s request for an interview, he said, but provided a statement arguing there were two separate funds from the beginning.
In their view, communications to victims and families referred to a “Victims and Families Fund,” and they say those communications were about that specific fund.
Sussman rejected that explanation in McHugh’s reporting, saying nobody knew the money was going to be spread to nonprofits and that people donated because they were responding to people being shot, not because they wanted to bankroll broader community needs.
McHugh described a wider outrage beyond the families, with local residents asking, “We sent our money for the victims – where did it go?”
This is the kind of dispute that can rot trust quickly, because it’s not just about numbers. It’s about whether words like “100%” still mean what normal people think they mean, or whether they become slippery once a tragedy attracts a big pile of donations.
Medical Bills, Small Checks, And A Feeling Of Being “Revictimized”
One of the most powerful moments in McHugh’s reporting came when Jennifer Zanca described what the money meant in real life. She told him she received about $32,000, and that it did not hit her fully until she was staring at a $93,000 hospital bill she could not cover while dealing with surgeries.
McHugh framed it as the cruel math of survival: living through a shooting does not end when the bullets stop, because recovery can drag on with medical costs, lost work, and lasting physical damage. Zanca told McHugh that learning nonprofits received more money than she did made her feel “revictimized,” because it did not feel fair or right.
Sussman was even harsher, telling McHugh she believes money was raised for nonprofits “on the backs” of the people murdered and the people shot, along with those who escaped what she described as attempted murder.
Her words carry anger, but it’s the kind of anger that often shows up when grieving families feel like the system treated them like a prop instead of the point.
This is where my own reaction kicks in, because even if a foundation can defend the legal mechanics, the human side still matters, and the human side sounds brutal here. A promise made in a school auditorium to traumatized families is not the same as a line in a fine-print policy page, and treating it like it is will always feel cold.
McHugh also reported that Sussman said she reached out to Maine Gov. Janet Mills multiple times without hearing back, and that she is working with an organization called VictimsFirst to pursue changes so nonprofits cannot profit from shootings.
Vargas reacted on-air like the concept should be obvious, saying it seems clear nonprofits should not be profiting off someone else’s tragedy.
Colion Noir Says This Is About Trust, Not Politics
YouTuber and gun rights activist Colion Noir covered the same controversy with a very direct tone, saying he hated covering the Lewiston shooting two years ago because “nobody wins” when innocent people are killed.
He said what surfaced afterward made him even angrier, because it is not about the shooter – it is about what happened after the shooting stopped.
Noir repeated the same key point Rich McHugh reported: that donors were told 100% would go to victims and survivors, and that nearly 30% – about $1.9 million – went to 29 nonprofits instead. He called the “100%” promise a “moral contract,” arguing people donated because 18 people were murdered and others were fighting to survive, not because they wanted to fund unrelated initiatives.
Noir lingered on Jennifer Zanca’s situation, stressing that being shot twice and surviving does not mean you are “fine,” because survival can turn into lifelong bills and permanent damage. He described her facing the $93,000 hospital bill as the kind of reality people conveniently forget when they talk about survivors.
He also tried to cut off predictable arguments before they start, saying clearly that, in his view, this is not an immigration argument or a race argument, and not even a broad attack on nonprofits as a concept. Noir framed it as an accountability issue, saying “victim money is not community money,” and that tragedy is not an excuse to blur ethical lines.
Noir highlighted a political development he said followed NewsNation’s report: he stated that Lewiston City Council member Iman Ozman, described as a Somali refugee, stepped down, and that NewsNation learned Ozman’s nonprofit was among those receiving funds.
Noir also claimed the man running the Lewiston Auburn Youth Network received $65,000 and is facing felony gun charges while pleading not guilty, and he pointed out how dark that looks when placed next to a survivor receiving less.
Even if you strip away every hot-button label people will try to attach to this, the basic picture is still disturbing: a public promise made in the wake of a massacre, followed by a distribution that left victims feeling shorted, confused, and used.
If the point of these funds is to help survivors rebuild their lives, then the process has to be so clear that nobody has to “investigate” a year later just to learn where the money went.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, John developed a love for the great outdoors early on. With years of experience as a wilderness guide, he’s navigated rugged terrains and unpredictable weather patterns. John is also an avid hunter and fisherman who believes in sustainable living. His focus on practical survival skills, from building shelters to purifying water, reflects his passion for preparedness. When he’s not out in the wild, you can find him sharing his knowledge through writing, hoping to inspire others to embrace self-reliance.
