Los Angeles County corruption has never been a solo act, it’s a family business. And few families have profited more from that arrangement than the Hahns.
Fresh off The Current Report’s deep dive into Majestic Realty’s $340,000 cash carousel – a pay-to-play pipeline greased by developer Edward P. Roski Jr. to curry favor with Supervisors Janice Hahn, Hilda Solis, and Kathryn Barger – new evidence exposes the deeper rot: a dynasty built on taxpayer dollars, nepotism, and zero accountability. Behind every campaign donation lies a career payday. Behind every “public servant,” a relative on the payroll. Welcome to the Hahn Dynasty, where ethics are optional and loyalty is a family inheritance.
The breadcrumbs were always there, buried in public records and campaign finance filings. Roski and his network pumped over $80,000 into Hahn’s coffers, strategically timed around key votes that reshaped the county’s development landscape. In 2017, Hahn took in $50,000 as Majestic’s county lease renewals were pending. In 2019, another $1,500 hit her campaign just weeks before she voted yes on the Tejon Ranch sprawl, a development mired in environmental controversy and legal backlash. The return on investment? A $154 million bonanza in no-bid leases approved by the Board in January 2025—rubber-stamped by the same officials who took Majestic’s money. As for the public, we’re left footing the bill for CEQA-violating projects, vanishing open space, and wildfire hazards in zones courts have already ruled too dangerous for mass development.
But the Majestic saga was only Act One. Follow the money further and you hit the Hahn family payroll pipeline, a taxpayer-funded network of cushy six-figure jobs reserved for the Supervisor’s kin. Public payroll and Transparent California records show that Janice Hahn’s son, Mark A. Baucum, and his wife, Jaclyn Elaine Baucum, have enjoyed meteoric salary climbs since Hahn’s election to the Board in 2016. Mark’s résumé? A Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Arts from an Pepperdine Univerity and a stint as Vice Chair for Camp Yakety Yak (you can’t make this stuff up!), a children’s summer camp in Oregon. That’s it. No policy experience. No governance credentials. Yet, in 2017, Mark walked straight into a $93,000-a-year deputy position in Mommy’s office. By 2025, he’s been rebranded as “Chief of Staff,” a nebulous title carrying a $396,000 total compensation package, tripling his pay in less than a decade, complete with pension and platinum-tier health coverage.
Jaclyn wasn’t left out. She, too, landed comfortably within the County matrix, another well-paid cog in the Hahn empire. Between the two of them, their household income now eclipses close to $700,000 a year, bankrolled by Los Angeles County taxpayers.
This isn’t new territory for the Hahns. Janice’s father, Kenneth Hahn, built his reputation as a beloved County Supervisor during the mid-20th century. Her brother, James Hahn, served as both City Attorney and Mayor of Los Angeles. The family name still opens doors in every corner of county government, and shuts down scrutiny just as fast. But Janice Hahn’s tenure marks a turning point. What was once legacy has mutated into lineage-fueled entitlement, where public office doubles as a family franchise. Her votes align neatly with donors’ interests, her relatives flourish on the inside, and the cycle continues, unchecked, unbothered, and insulated by decades of political muscle.
Los Angeles County isn’t being run by elected leaders, it’s being leased out by families who treat it like their private trust fund. The Hahn Dynasty epitomizes this rot: the perfect blend of insider influence, campaign cash, and self-dealing that keeps public wealth flowing to private pockets. When billionaires like Roski bankroll votes and Supervisors like Hahn turn public service into a family stipend, democracy doesn’t just erode, it’s sold, signed, and sealed at 500 West Temple Street.
Stay tuned. The next installment in The Current Report’s “Pay-to-Play L.A.” series tracks how these family fiefdoms cross into other departments, and how the Board of Supervisors keeps the racket running under the guise of public service.
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