The Brief

People are dying in custody at record rates across California. They’re dying in big jails and small jails, in red counties and blue counties, in rural holding cells and downtown mega-complexes. They’re dying from suicide, drug overdoses and the catch-all term natural causes.

The number of jail deaths is up even though the number of people in jail is down.

The state is aware. Reams of reports from oversight agencies have repeatedly pointed to problems in individual jails and the state board that oversees them.

Gov. Gavin Newsom pledged almost five years ago that the state would take a stronger hand to prevent deaths in the 57 jail systems run by California county sheriffs.

In every year since, more people have died in California jails than when Newsom made that pledge — hitting a high of 215 in 2022. Tulare, San Diego, Kern, Riverside and San Bernardino counties’ jails set records.

Nor was the pandemic the driving factor: California in 2022 had the smallest share of deaths due to natural causes in the past four decades. A surge in overdoses drove the trend of increasing deaths. And almost every person who died was waiting to be tried. A previous CalMatters investigation found that three-quarters of those held in county jails had not been convicted or sentenced, with many awaiting trial more than three years.

A state board was supposed to put in place measures that would keep inmates safer. Newsom committed to working through that board when he said in 2020, “I’ve got a board that’s responsibility is oversight. I want to see them step things up.” 

But in the years that followed, Newsom and the Board of State and Community Corrections were unable to slow the deaths. Until recently, the board was not even notified about deaths inside the county-run lockups, and a 2021 State Auditor’s report criticized the board for failing to enforce its own rules and standards on mental health checks and in-cell wellness checks of inmates.

The state has begun to take a somewhat stronger role.

The governor appointed a formerly incarcerated person to the Board of State and Community Corrections, and also signed a bill last year that added to it a licensed health care provider and a licensed mental or behavioral health care provider.

Following through on his 2021 budget proposal to increase the frequency of jail inspections and allow the board to perform them unannounced, Newsom directed an additional $3.1 million each year to the oversight board. The board reported that last year it conducted 31 unannounced jail inspections, a change from past practice when it would visit jails just once every two years, and told jail authorities in advance when inspectors were coming.

And a new law in July will add a staff position to review in-custody deaths, a position to be appointed by Newsom and confirmed by the Senate.

But critics say those steps have been insufficient. For instance, the original bill would have put jail death monitors in every county.

From right, Gov. Gavin Newsom, along with former Senate President Pro Tem Toni Atkins, and Attorney General Rob Bonta, speaks in support of Prop. 1 during a press conference at the United Domestic Workers of America building in San Diego on Feb. 29, 2024.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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CalMatters sent nine questions to the governor about jail deaths, the effectiveness of the state board, and his own 2021 pledge to strengthen jail oversight.

Newsom’s office did not answer the questions, instead sending a list of accomplishments to reflect “the Governor’s extensive record in this space.” Those mostly applied to his policies for state prisons, such as a death penalty moratorium.

When CalMatters asked him about high statewide jail deaths at a March 1 press conference in the Inland Empire, Newsom responded by saying:

“The governor,” Newsom said, “just signed legislation to actually be able to create a point person specifically responsible for overseeing what’s happening in county jails, working with (Attorney General Rob Bonta), who’s also been advancing investigations. One very close to home here in Riverside County, related to 18 in-custody deaths in 2022 with the current sheriff.”

The officials with the greatest influence over what happens in jails — the state’s elected county sheriffs — say additional state oversight is unnecessary. California State Sheriffs’ Association president Mike Boudreaux, who is also the sheriff of Tulare County, said he already answers to a state oversight board, the state Justice Department, county grand juries, federal courts, state courts and the media.

“What we see is that people criticize jails, they criticize sheriffs’ offices,” Boudreaux said. “And the reality of it is, they’ve never been inside a jail. They’ve never worked side-by-side with the sheriffs’ offices. They’ve never sat in meetings that we sit in to make sure that not only are we doing things right, we’re doing things that are for the safety and security of those inmates.”

In 2011 California — as it thinned severely overcrowded state prisons by sending tens of thousands of recently convicted offenders to county-run jails — created an oversight board for prisons and jails. This 13-member Board of State and Community Corrections is composed mostly of people with law enforcement and probation experience. The governor appoints eight, with one each appointed by the Judicial Council of California, Speaker of the Assembly and Senate Rules Committee.

The other two current board members are the state prison system’s chief and its director of parole operations.

The board’s initial mission was to lend independent expertise to jails and prisons and act as a “data and information clearinghouse.” The board gives out $400 million each year to jails, prisons, tribes and community organizations. It also sets standards for correctional facilities, from the hourly checks performed on inmates to the time set aside for recreation.

Almost immediately after its formation, the board was confronted with the limits of its powers: It lacked authority to mandate that all California sheriffs report their data – including in-custody deaths.

That will change when the state board’s new reviewer of in-custody death starts this summer.

When asked by CalMatters why more people are dying in California jails, despite a declining jail population, Board of State and Community Corrections representative Adam A. Lwin responded, “The BSCC is not in a position to comment on this question with respect to deaths in jails.”

“Until the passage of (the new law adding a detention monitor), the BSCC did not have specific responsibilities related to deaths in custody, beyond inspecting for the local agency’s policy and procedures related to reporting on any death in custody,” Lwin wrote in response to CalMatters’ questions.

So why are so many dying in California jails?

The reasons people are dying at record rates in California jails are a matter of circumstance, although in interviews with more than 70 people involved in California jails systems, from sheriffs and prosecutors to inmates and nurses, some patterns emerged.

Natural causes have long accounted for the biggest share of jail deaths, followed by suicides.

Suicide prevention should be a higher priority for jail staff, said University of Texas School of Law professor Michele Deitch, among the nation’s foremost authorities on deaths in prisons and jails.

“The vast majority of these deaths are preventable,” she said.

The causes of a significant number of deaths for recent years are still pending – meaning that the sheriff’s office hasn’t yet identified the cause or the Justice Department hasn’t updated the cause in its data collection.

But the recent increase in deaths came from the third largest cause overall, accidental deaths including fentanyl overdoses. Overdoses accounted for 43 deaths in 2022.

Fentanyl overdoses present a far deadlier challenge now than the previous dominant drug in jails, methamphetamine. Other factors are the same ones Newsom cited a few years ago: suicide; failures in health care or psychiatric evaluations; and less commonly, violence among inmates or by jail guards.

Protesters hold signs outside the John F. Tavaglione Executive Annex building in protest of jail deaths in Riverside County, on Oct. 31, 2023.

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Jules Hotz

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CalMatters

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A row of cells in an inmate housing unit at the Tulare County Adult Pre-Trial Facility on Sept. 18, 2023.

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Larry Valenzuela

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CalMatters/CatchLight Local

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Sabrina Weddle protests in front of the San Diego Central Jail in San Diego on Oct. 24, 2023. Waddle’s brother, Saxon Rodriguez, died while in custody at the jail after overdosing on fentanyl in 2021.

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Adriana Heldiz

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CalMatters

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Shannon Dicus, San Bernardino County’s Sheriff and a member of the Board of State and Community Corrections, said the rise in deaths in part reflects trends that are unfolding outside of jails, including an overstretched mental health system and widespread use of potentially deadly opiates.

For his deputies, a persistent issue is people who know they are in violation of their probation terms hiding drugs in their bodies before they’re returned to jail.

“So a lot of these folks are secreting opiates in their rectum,” Dicus said. “We run dogs through. We do a number of things. We’re spending $250,000 on body scanners. And what happens is some of these people, they’ll have it in their bodies where we can’t detect it.

“They go into the jail, they get housed in their general housing assignment, and then all of a sudden I have seven fentanyl overdoses. And that’s the truth.”

Dicus said jails also find letters sent to inmates in the mail that were dipped in diluted fentanyl or methamphetamine.

But sometimes the jail-keepers themselves are responsible. During the pandemic, when jails were closed to visitors, drugs still found a way in. Jail deputies in Riverside and Fresno counties have been charged with drug smuggling, and an Alameda County civil grand jury found that a private jail contractor fired the medical director of the county’s jails for writing fake prescriptions to obtain opioids for herself.

Sheriffs have sometimes resisted outside pressure to more closely monitor their employees. In San Diego County jails, where according to Justice Department statistics 47 people died between 2021 and 2023, Sheriff Kelly Martinez and her predecessor have repeatedly refused requests from the local civilian law enforcement review board to put her deputies through scanners before they start their shifts. Two jail deputies pleaded guilty to drug-related charges last year, one for burglary of medication from a jail prescription medication drop-off box and the other for possession of cocaine on jail property.

Burned out jail medical staff

Jails could do a better job beginning at intake and reception, said Corene Kendrick, deputy director of the American Civil Liberties Union National Prison Project. She noted that people who have been arrested often are asked deeply personal questions about their substance use and history of self-harm, within earshot of jail deputies and other inmates.

If they don’t disclose that they have drug or alcohol dependency – perhaps fearing that will lead to more charges – Kendrick said the immediate cutoff can pose an enormous health risk.

And for people who are on psychiatric medication but don’t like the side-effects or don’t want to disclose their condition, the cessation of their medication can send their mental health into a tailspin.

The pandemic also badly dented jails’ ability to provide quality health care, critics contend.

When jails reopened to their regular capacity, Kendrick said, the arrival of new inmates and the resignations of burned-out health care workers stressed the systems beyond their breaking points. “A lot of jails have said that they’re having problems with correctional and health care staff who quit during the pandemic,” she said.

One of those was Dr. Lauren Wolchok, who worked in Los Angeles County jails from 2016 to 2021. Before and during the pandemic, she said, the number of opioid-dependent patients she saw skyrocketed. But those jails strictly restricted opioid treatment, she said, confining it to a small subset of the population that needed it.

“I was not able to offer the kind of medical care that I wanted to be able to offer and that contributed to burnout for me,” Wolchok said. “I had long struggled with the existential crisis of, am I doing more harm than good by working in this terrible setting or am I sort of fighting against the system and getting people care that they otherwise wouldn’t have?

“Especially as the quality of the care that I felt I was delivering declined, it became harder and harder for me personally to decide that I was fighting the good fight.”

Drug overdoses, insufficient medical treatment, suicides — all of those causes of jail deaths could be minimized by more stringent policies. Academics, inmates and their advocates suggest scanning jail workers for drugs, providing a ready supply of the opioid-blocking naloxone nasal spray, ensuring inmates go through intake in a more private area, performing more frequent checks of inmates, and instituting local oversight boards.

Those decisions fall to one person: The county sheriff.

An overdose? Or a heart attack?

Some of California’s deadliest jails are in Riverside County, where 45 people have died since Jan. 1, 2021. One of them was Richard Matus.

Matus knew he wasn’t feeling well days before he died.

In journals he kept during his incarceration, which his family provided to CalMatters along with his medical records, Matus complained of feeling ill and receiving no medical help in jail.

“Its hard to deal with being treated as a sick animal an feeling like im just waiting to die,” he wrote in one entry. “Iv put in medical slips to see a doctor because I felt sick, very dizzy, bad head ack, felt like I was running fever and completely lost my sense of smell witch was really weird. They never followed up I believe it was twice I put in medical slips an no response so I gave up.”

Matus, whose family said he hadn’t used drugs besides marijuana before his incarceration, was found dead in his cell on Aug. 10, 2022, of a fentanyl overdose.

The Riverside County Sheriff’s Department coroner’s death record for Richard Matus Jr.

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Miguel Gutierrez Jr.

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CalMatters

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In a lawsuit filed in March 2023, Matus’ family alleges that Matus was lucid and communicative on the phone with his mother, Lisa, hours before his death. They allege that his “dire need for emergency medical intervention went unnoticed by the (jail’s) custody staff.”

An autopsy conducted eight hours after Matus’ death found something else. His left anterior descending artery, which provides half the heart’s blood supply and is known colloquially as “the widowmaker,” was 80% to 90% blocked. A medical form filled out by Matus on Sept. 26, 2021, indicated that a doctor told him his cholesterol and blood pressure were far above normal.

“Every time he complained to that (jail medical) office, they gave him cholesterol pills and told him to lose weight,” Matus’ mother, Lisa, told CalMatters. “They never sent him to the hospital, even though his blood pressure and cholesterol was (above normal). The whole time, he needed medical care and they just ignored him.”

That contention became part of the family’s lawsuit.

“Due to the great delays in securing adequate emergency medical attention for Richard Matus, Jr., and the failures on behalf of the (jail’s) custody staff in performing the required safety and welfare checks,” Matus’ family wrote in the lawsuit, “Mr. Matus did not respond to medical intervention and died.”

The Riverside County Sheriff’s Office responded to the lawsuit by denying all liability and said that Matus’ death was his own doing.

The family of Richard Matus Jr. stands outside the John F. Tavaglione Executive Annex with memorial photos of Richard, who died in-custody of the Riverside Sheriff’s Department in Riverside County.

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Jules Hotz

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CalMatters

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“If Plaintiffs sustained any injury or damages,” they wrote, “such injury or damages were solely caused or contributed to by the wrongful conduct of other entities or persons other than the answer Defendants.”

Some sheriffs have changed their practices to avoid in-custody deaths. Others say they’re looking for solutions. But Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco has instead taken an adversarial approach.

Criticism of his policy and practices, Bianco told the Riverside Press-Enterprise, are a “political publicity stunt of the far left.” He did not answer questions from CalMatters.

After an inmate died in 2022, the Riverside Press-Enterprise posted an interview with Bianco. In the comments under the story, someone who identified himself as Bianco interacted with commenters, referring to the demands of people whose family members had died in his jails.

“Did they demand their family members not commit suicide or consume drugs while they were in custody?” he wrote. “Did they ever demand that their family members not commit crimes in the first place? Did their parents ever demand that they take responsibility for their own actions?”

The ACLU sent a letter in September 2021 demanding that the state investigate Riverside County jails. In 2022, another 19 people died, including Matus. After the ACLU wrote again demanding an inquiry by the state’s jail oversight board in early 2023, Attorney General Rob Bonta launched an investigation.

The Justice Department refused to answer any questions about its investigation. Bianco did.

“This announcement comes as a shock but at the same time should have been expected from our California DOJ and the attorney general who cares more about politics than he does about transparency and the truth,” Bianco said in a video the day the investigation was announced.

“This investigation is based on nothing but false and misleading statements and straight out lies from activists, including their attorneys. This will prove to be a complete waste of time and resources.”

‘All we’re doing is making recommendations to sheriffs’

The attorney general has two open investigations into jails, one in Riverside County and one in Santa Clara County. But the organization charged with overseeing day-to-day operations of California’s jails is the Board of State and Community Corrections.

The board can wield significant power.

When it repeatedly found the Los Angeles juvenile hall were unsuitable for housing last year, it shut down the system and directed the county probation department to find new housing for about 300 young people.

But that was an exception.

A Feb. 9, 2023 board meeting turned contentious when it came to the Riverside County jail system, the 15th-largest in the U.S.

Avalon Edwards, a policy associate of Riverside-based social justice organization Starting Over Inc., said the board was not enforcing its own standards of inmate care.

“If (Riverside County) can kill 20 people in 13 months and fail to provide any information to the families impacted, fail to report those deaths to the DOJ within the 10-day mandated reporting period, continue to lie to the public about the cause of death for all these people,” he said, “what are those minimum standards accomplishing?”

Edwards urged the board to withhold funding from noncompliant departments or, if they wouldn’t, he asked every board member to resign.

Critics argue that the board lacks the ability to effectively regulate jails.

“It is not set up with the kind of enforcement power, or teeth, to be able to meaningfully hold accountable agencies that are failing to comply with standards,” recently recalled San Francisco District Attorney Chesa Boudin told CalMatters. “So that’s one problem. And I don’t say that as a criticism of the organization or the people there so much as of the structure.

“I mean, it doesn’t have the ability to actually impose remedies even when it is aware of violations,” he said.

Two independent state oversight agencies also have found fault with the board and the jail system. The Legislative Analyst’s Office found in 2021 that the board’s effectiveness is hard to judge because it’s unclear what the board’s mission is. It said this “undermines the Legislature’s ability to assess whether the program is operating effectively and is consistent with Legislative priorities.”

The State Auditor’s Office, meanwhile, zeroed in on San Diego County jails in February 2022. It found that the San Diego Sheriff’s Department failed to prevent deaths in its jails and that its practices “likely contributed to in‑custody deaths.” The auditor’s office also found fault with the state corrections board, saying its jail regulations are inconsistent and its answers to the audit were “deficient or misleading.”

Even one member of the state corrections board feels the board’s hands are tied.

“All we’re doing is making recommendations to sheriffs,” said board member Norma Cumpian. “You’re like, hey, 20 people have died in your jails. We recommend that you, you know, report it quicker. Like, that’s not a lot.”

A Tulare County deputy sheriff stands guard at an inmate housing unit at the Tulare County Adult Pre-Trial Facility on Sept. 18, 2023.

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Larry Valenzuela

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Cumpian, a former inmate who served nearly 20 years in prison for killing her abusive partner, said she often senses indifference or complacency from her colleagues.

As for plans to add a detention monitor, a dubious Cumpian said “I don’t know, this bill is supposed to release reports to the public. Like, what is that gonna do?”

Dicus, the San Bernardino sheriff who operates the seventh-largest jail system in the U.S., doesn’t see a problem with the way the oversight board operates. He said the oversight board is doing its job in accordance with its mission: assessing the policies and procedures of the jails it oversees while ensuring facilities are up to code.

He said the blame for in-custody deaths extends beyond the jails.

“Locally, try getting some help,” Dicus said. “Our local department of behavioral health, and this is not me throwing stones at them, but they’re 9 to 5. We live in a 24/7 environment where people are in crisis. And the crisis that we’re experiencing, the cops are there 24/7, but we need some of these other service providers to have the same level of response.”

He said the state has to rethink how it operates the social safety net at the county level, especially for mental health and substance abuse.

“It’s just typically this is the way we’ve handled everything, and we need to break out of that,” he said. “I think we need kind of a statewide revisit of what’s working and what’s not.”

Fancy a Madame Vice President Iced Coffee? It's what's on the menu at Caféina, a coffee shop that's part of the Women’s March Foundation’s new West L.A. hub on Overland and Pico.

Emiliana Guereca, founder of the Women’s March Foundation, which advocates for social justice, told LAist it was designed to be a space to gather.

“We require energy in advocacy and Caféina, which is Spanish for caffeine, is just a natural part,” she said. “When we gather, we gather around coffee, we gather around tea. So now for us, this space also has a coffee shop.”

In the spirit of its mission, Caféina is serving up tea and coffee drinks inspired by the names and personal habits of key women in recent history.

The Gloria Steinem Latte

Caféina is currently open 7 a.m. - 2 p.m., Tue-Sun.

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Courtesy Women's March Foundation

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Guereca said the spiced chai latte, named for American journalist and activist Gloria Steinem, is inspired by Steinem's own drink of choice.

“She's a tea drinker,” she said. “Tea with light milk, like a chai tea latte with cinnamon.”

Madame Vice President Iced Coffee

The Madam Vice President Iced Coffee

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Courtesy Women's March Foundation

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The creamy iced coffee is informed by Kamala Harris, the first American woman vice president. “We know that she was always with her iced coffee with foam,” said Guereca.

Marching Matcha

The Marching Matcha

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Courtesy Women's March Foundation

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Not every drink is named after a person. Some are dedicated to feminist concepts, like the Ally Brew.

Guereca said right now, the Marching Matcha Latte is her favorite. “It's vibrant and so yummy but also it's not too sweet,” she said. “I'm ready to march with it.”

The Dolores Huerta café de olla

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Courtesy Women's March Foundation

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Other drinks include a café de olla named for California labor leader Dolores Huerta, an espresso named for American tennis great Billy Jean King (who has won a literal battle of the sexes,) and the Equal Pay Cortado, which speaks for itself.

Caféina is open from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m., Tuesday through Sunday, inside the Women’s March Westside Hub at 2456 Overland Ave., Los Angeles.

Last October, I had a decision to make. Did I want to spend around $775 on World Cup tickets? For the first time since 1994, the men's World Cup is being held in the U.S., as well as in Mexico and Canada. I had just hours to decide.

At this point, I also began to question the economic logic of FIFA's approach to World Cup tickets. Was FIFA, as soccer's governing body and the guardian of the beautiful game, bungling the ticket sales?

For millions of soccer fans, buying World Cup tickets has been an ordeal. My friends and I had signed up for updates from soccer's governing body, FIFA, and their emails about how to buy tickets felt a bit like receiving the fine print of an insurance policy in monthly digests.

First there was a presale—but it was sponsored by Visa and only for people with Visa cards, and it was a lottery. Winning the lottery didn't get you a ticket, though. You won the chance to buy a ticket. If you missed the presale, more lotteries followed. Winning one earned you the right to buy tickets. Another involved submitting an application for certain types of matches and then having your credit card charged automatically (how much exactly?) if you won and if your application was accepted. (Accepted?)

You could just browse and buy tickets on the FIFA website, but only expensive "hospitality packages" that included VIP perks. Or you could buy "special digital assets" (NFTs? really?) that resembled trading cards and could potentially earn you the right to buy tickets to certain matches.

I had won one of the first lotteries. Huzzah! I could buy tickets. But tickets weren't cheap. A package of three matches for $775 was among the cheapest I saw, and not for Team USA or elite matchups like Brazil vs Morocco. If buying a ticket to a single group-stage game was an option, I didn't see it. Plus I had to coordinate with friends and look up the cost of flights and hotels in cities hosting matches—all before an imminent deadline. I decided not to buy myself a ticket.

The best moments of World Cup soccer bring joy to millions. But for most fans not wealthy enough to buy VIP ticket packages, catching a glimpse in-person required navigating a complicated and convoluted system just for the chance to pay high prices.

Still, I have some sympathy for the challenge FIFA faced. And if I squint, their system almost resembles a smart and fair approach to ticket sales.

That's because I've spent the past two years writing a book about how economic thinking can improve our lives. (It's called Planet Money: A Guide To The Economic Forces That Shape Your Life. You can order it now!) During that time, I talked to economists about when high prices mean that something has gone wrong (perhaps due to a monopoly) vs when high prices are a smart method for allocating scarce resources. And about cases when prices alone fail to achieve fair or efficient outcomes.

Based on these conversations, I suspect that me staying home is a good outcome for society. I could have afforded the World Cup tickets, but I'm a bandwagon fan. So the high price nudged me toward instead spending my time and money on something I'd enjoy more. That's good!

But selling tickets to unique, uber-popular events like the World Cup is a profound economic challenge—it's one of those exceptions to the otherwise incredible ability of prices to coordinate economic activity.

World Cup tickets are incredibly popular and in short supply, so they should be expensive. But World Cup tickets shouldn't just be for rich people, so they should be affordable. How do you square that circle?

We at Planet Money have a modest proposal: FIFA should learn from other organizations that have faced this dilemma and triumphed. Among others, the team behind Hamilton the musical, the National Park system, and the NYC Marathon have developed clever ways to fairly distribute tickets, hiking permits, and marathon bibs despite overwhelming demand.

The case for high prices

What would have happened if FIFA sold every World Cup ticket for just $20?

In some ways, this would be more "fair" and pro-fan. But low prices can backfire. Instead of tickets going to true fans, they'd get scooped up by resellers—or by bots and whoever happens to have enough schedule flexibility to buy tickets the second that sales start.

Plus, if tickets were only $20, some people with only mild interest in soccer would buy tickets. You could end up with empty seats at a Brazil–Argentina match because they saw rain in the forecast and skipped the game.

Alternatively, FIFA could sell every ticket for $20, but only to superfans. But how do you identify the superfans? Or the working-class octogenarian whose last wish is to see a World Cup game?

Do you make everyone write a personal essay? Ask people to rate their obsession with soccer from 1 to 10—and hope they don't lie?

Figuring out who most values World Cup tickets, or any scarce resource, is a hard problem, and high prices are often an elegant solution. Want World Cup tickets? Then prove how much you value them by paying the high ticket price.

This system works perfectly if everyone has the same amount of money. And it works well for goods that can be mass produced, like smartphones, or that only some people need or want, like Pokemon cards or Aspirin. But we live in a world where mildly interested millionaires can pay more for World Cup tickets than working-class families that live for soccer. That's probably why FIFA announced in December that it would sell some additional tickets for just $60—a move likely prompted by complaints from soccer fans.

So what should FIFA do instead?

A masterclass in fairness 

FIFA could learn from another huge sporting event that we at Planet Money consider a master class in fairness: the New York City Marathon.

Watching the Marathon is free, but more people want to run than the course can accommodate. So New York Road Runners, the nonprofit that organizes the Marathon, has to sell or allocate spots.

In fact, NYRR faces a similar mismatch of supply and demand. In December, FIFA announced that demand for World Cup tickets—in terms of the number of people entering its drawings—outstripped supply 30 to 1. In 2025, meanwhile, NYRR reported that around 200,000 hopeful runners entered a drawing for ~6,000 spots. That's also a ratio of around 30 to 1!

NYRR could simply charge high prices and maximize their profits. But it's a nonprofit that relies on the goodwill of New Yorkers—the race shuts down dozens of busy streets across all five boroughs of New York.

The same is true of FIFA. It is, officially, a nonprofit—a FIFA spokesperson stressed to us that "the revenue FIFA generates from the World Cup is reinvested to fuel the growth of the game (men, women, youth)." And FIFA relies on the goodwill of the host country or countries, which shoulder the cost of building soccer stadiums and endure extra noise and traffic.

So what's a fair way to decide who should get to run the NYC Marathon? (Or attend the World Cup?) Fairness is subjective and debatable. But the genius of the NYC Marathon is that NYRR's system uses four main methods to allocate spots, each of which optimizes for a different form of fairness:

1. Luck. As the marathon's popularity grew, the first tool NYRR reached for was a lottery, or random drawing. Aspiring marathoners mailed in a postcard with their name on it, and staff picked lucky winners who got to run 26.2 miles. Eventually an online form replaced the postcards. It's brute-force fairness: straightforward and perfectly egalitarian.
   
2. Merit. If NYRR distributed every spot by luck of the draw, the Marathon would not be an elite athletic event. That's why NYRR directly invites elite runners and Olympic-level marathoners to participate, and nonprofessionals can earn a spot by running another marathon or half-marathon extremely fast. (Qualifying times vary by age and gender.)
   
3. Prices. NYRR effectively allocates some spots through high prices. If you spend $5,000 or $10,000 a year for a charitable NYRR membership, rather than the standard $60, you're guaranteed a Marathon bib. Or international runners can buy marathon packages that include a bib, hotel stay, and flights. (NYRR gives spots to tour operators to attract more international runners, support the city's economy, and expand the Marathon's TV audience.)
   
4. Effort. Another approach to fair allocation is to give marathon spots to people who value them highly, but measured in ways other than money. NYRR has developed a clever metric: People prove their enthusiasm by running nine of NYRR's qualifying local races and volunteering at another. They effectively pay in time and effort for a Marathon spot. This 9+1 program helps local New Yorkers qualify and filters out wealthy people who have minimal free time—or can spend their free time on expensive diversions—all while helping new runners train and stay motivated. Or runners can earn a spot by fundraising for pre-approved charities.

The NYC Marathon offers a smattering of other ways to earn a spot. But most race bibs are allocated through these methods. Each method has ways they feel fair and unfair. Each method has flaws and leaves people out. Taken together, though, they give just about everyone a shot at running the Marathon.

With this framework in mind, you can spot organizations around the world allocating extremely popular tickets and permits using a portfolio of fair methods. Yosemite National Park, which only allows 300 hikers per day up to the summit of Half Dome, distributes permits via one main lottery and smaller, daily lotteries (that favor locals). Many popular musicians offer discounted tickets to their followers during presales. The team behind Hamilton generated plenty of revenue by selling expensive tickets, but also ran lotteries for $10 tickets and partnered with local public schools so students could see $10 matinees.

Scoring FIFA

Tickets to the World Cup are frustratingly expensive, and the system for buying FIFA's mostly expensive tickets is complicated and exasperating. But there's some method there. With the NYC Marathon's example in mind, we can see FIFA using allocation methods that map to the four kinds of fairness:

1. Luck. FIFA's random drawings allow them to sell tickets for less than the market-clearing price, but give everyone (or everyone with a Visa card, in the case of the presale) an equal shot at buying tickets that cost less than ticket reseller prices.
   
2. Merit. FIFA gives 16% of each match's tickets to the competing country's Member Associations. That way, the Canadian Soccer Association or Egyptian Football Association can come up with an application process or criteria to reward loyal fans with tickets. According to FIFA, 50% of the tickets sold by Member Associations are in the "most affordable range," although only 10% are those budget, $60 tickets.
   
3. Prices. FIFA's "hospitality packages" that cost thousands of dollars and include VIP perks allow people to claim a ticket via high prices. And the far-from-inexpensive prices for lottery winners mean prices still play an allocation role in the random drawings.
   
4. Effort. If I interpret FIFA's digital collectibles program generously, I can see an attempt to allow fans to get access to tickets through the effort of figuring out the rules and collecting the right cards. A less generous interpretation is that it was a cash grab. Last year, The Athletic reported that FIFA made more than $10 million from the collectibles before ticket sales had even started, and collectors at best won the right to buy tickets at prices that had not yet been announced.

That said, FIFA could make its World Cup ticket sales much simpler. Complexity itself is a way to restrict access, and if not done with intention, it usually rewards those with more resources and time to navigate it. So why not have just one lottery? Or at least not have an extra lottery just for people with Visa cards?

And FIFA could make its ticket sales more fair in multiple senses.

FIFA's random drawings introduce some fairness via luck, but since most winners still have to pay hundreds of dollars, it's far from the shining example of Hamilton's $10 lottery tickets. When we asked FIFA about $10 lottery tickets and fan criticism of FIFA's high prices, they pointed to their $60 tickets, and also said, tellingly, "The pricing model adopted for FIFA World Cup 2026 reflects the existing market practice for major entertainment and sporting events within our hosts on a daily basis."

FIFA could also offer would-be attendees a real path to earning tickets through effort. FIFA's digital collectibles involve effort, but fans had to buy them just to pay again for a ticket. It was not a way to pay in time (instead of money) in exchange for discounted tickets.

The genius of NYRR's 9+1 and fundraising programs is that marathoners pay for a spot with effort and time. But unlike standing in line or filling out tons of paperwork—which economists call "ordeals," because they filter people out by forcing them to waste their time—the marathoners do useful things: train for the big race or raise money for charity.

For FIFA, a comparable approach could be partnering with host countries' schools and soccer clubs, especially in low-income neighborhoods, to offer discount tickets to students who never miss a practice. Or rewarding fans who contribute to the growth of the game by coaching youth soccer or supporting women's soccer clubs in countries where the women's game is underfunded.

World Cup tickets are wildly popular, and there are only so many seats and matches. Not everyone will be able to see a World Cup match. Any approach to ticket sales, no matter how well-designed, will leave some fans disappointed.

But the incredible popularity of the tournament and people's passion for soccer and its stars mean FIFA could choose to model fairness and thoughtfulness, too.

The story of how the NYC Marathon became a masterclass in fairness comes straight from our new book: Planet Money: A Guide To The Economic Forces That Shape Your Life. Each chapter asks questions like: What's the deal with credit card points? Or: Why does my bank seem so eager to give me free stuff? And the book is filled with illuminating stories, like the time the president of Argentina tried to use tariffs to boost manufacturing—and force BlackBerry to manufacture smartphones on a remote island near Antarctica.

The Planet Money book comes out on April 7. You can pre-order it now and get a free poster. Or join us in April at any of our live events across the country. We've got a free tote bag to go with event ticket purchases while supplies last. Find tickets and details at planetmoneybook.com
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