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Sat, Oct 31, 2026

Virginia Sent a Voting-Rights Restoration Certificate to a Dead Dog — Now Lawmakers Want an Audit

Virginia Sent a Voting-Rights Restoration Certificate to a Dead Dog — Now Lawmakers Want an Audit

Virginia's voting-rights restoration system just produced a piece of paperwork so absurd that it would sound made up if the document were not sitting in a lawmaker's hands.

An official restoration certificate was mailed in the name of Biscuit Rigsby.

Biscuit was a dog. Her owner says she died about five years ago.

Yet the certificate bearing Gov. Abigail Spanberger's signature uses the formal language reserved for a person convicted of a crime whose civil rights have been restored.

Virginia Del. Tom Garrett brought the document into public view Friday and called for an independent audit of the administration's restoration process.

The basic fact is not really in dispute: an official Virginia certificate was issued and mailed under the name "Biscuit Rigsby." The dog's owner confirmed the document and told reporters Biscuit was a beagle-hound mix who had never been convicted of a felony.

The dispute is over how that name got there — and what the mistake says about a process the administration has described as careful and proactive.

Fox News reviewed the certificate, spoke with Biscuit's owner and obtained both sides of the controversy. The document says the executive reviewed the particulars of the named recipient's criminal case before removing political disabilities and restoring civil rights.

Garrett says that language demands an explanation because Biscuit was not a person, had no criminal case and had been dead for years.

Spanberger's office responded that it did not restore the rights of a dog. A spokesperson said the underlying record is associated with a person who has a date of birth and Social Security number, but the administration did not disclose that person's identity or explain how a dead dog's name appeared on the official certificate.

That defense narrows the problem. It does not solve it.

If the record belongs to a real person, then the Commonwealth mailed that person's restoration paperwork under a dead dog's name. If it does not, the alternative is even worse.

Either way, the most basic identity check failed somewhere in a process exercising one of the governor's constitutional powers.

Attorney Tim Anderson posted images of the certificate and pointed to the formal representation that Biscuit's supposed criminal case had been reviewed.

Another warning light was already flashing.

Earlier in October, Spanberger acknowledged that her administration was examining reports that restoration notices had gone to people who were already dead.

Potomac Local News, republishing local WRIC reporting, said Spanberger blamed part of the difficulty on government databases that may identify a person as having lost civil rights after a felony conviction without carrying current death information. She also stressed that restoration of civil rights does not automatically register anyone to vote and that casting a ballot for another person remains a felony.

That distinction should be kept straight. There is no evidence that Biscuit registered, voted or caused a ballot to be cast.

But the absence of an illegal ballot does not make official identity failures harmless.

A restoration certificate is not junk mail. It represents an exercise of executive authority affecting the right to vote, serve on a jury, run for public office and become a notary.

When the state says an individual record was reviewed, Virginians should be able to trust that the state at least knows whether the named recipient is a living human being.

The administration itself set that expectation.

In a July announcement, the Office of the Governor of Virginia said Spanberger had restored voting rights to 66,085 formerly incarcerated Virginians since taking office. The release said Virginia is one of only three states whose constitution permanently disenfranchises people with past felony convictions unless the governor acts.

The administration described a proactive system in which the Secretary of the Commonwealth's office identifies people who lost their rights, confirms that they are eligible and restores those rights. The restored package includes the right to vote, serve on a jury, run for public office and become a notary.

Spanberger's office framed the initiative as a return to a streamlined process used by governors of both parties before 2022. The administration later announced that its restoration total had reached 100,000 people.

Those claims make the identity failure central to the story. A process moving tens of thousands of official records cannot rely on a spreadsheet or mail merge that puts a dead dog's name on constitutional paperwork without triggering a serious audit.

That is a massive undertaking. It is also exactly why quality control matters.

The Virginia restoration program explains that the state constitution gives the governor sole discretion to restore civil rights, excluding firearm rights. Applicants are directed to the Secretary of the Commonwealth, and eligibility depends on the person's status in the criminal-justice system.

The program separates restoration from voter registration. Regaining civil rights makes an eligible person able to register, but it does not place that person on the voter rolls automatically or create a ballot.

That legal distinction undercuts wild claims that Biscuit cast a vote. It also raises the stakes for record accuracy because the certificate is the government's representation that a named person's legal disability was reviewed and removed.

A broken mail merge cannot be waved away like an error in a promotional mailing. The paperwork communicates an official constitutional act and can affect several important civic rights.

Biscuit's certificate follows another embarrassing document issued in the name "Betty No Last Name." The administration attributed that earlier episode to a spreadsheet and mail-merge problem, according to reporting on the controversy.

Now Anderson says he has filed public-records requests seeking the identity and data trail behind both Betty's certificate and Biscuit's.

The timing gives the story real political weight.

Virginia voters are days away from deciding whether to make civil-rights restoration automatic for people released from incarceration after felony convictions. Supporters argue that citizens who have completed their incarceration should not be forced through an opaque executive process to regain basic rights.

Critics say the latest errors show the state cannot be trusted to automate more of the system without transparent safeguards.

Reasonable people can debate the policy question. There should be no debate about the need for accurate records.

Garrett is asking for preservation of the underlying data, disclosure of the record that produced Biscuit's certificate and an independent audit identifying any documents issued to deceased, nonexistent or duplicate recipients.

Those are not unreasonable demands.

The governor's office may ultimately prove that Biscuit's name was attached to a legitimate person's record through a clerical or mail-merge failure. If so, the public still deserves to know how it happened, how many similar errors exist and whether the affected person's private record was mishandled.

The state cannot advertise a process that "confirms" eligibility, produce a rights-restoration certificate for a dead dog and then treat the wrong name as a minor detail.

Biscuit never needed her voting rights restored.

Virginia's voters need confidence that their government knows who it is restoring rights to.

An independent audit is the fastest way to find out.


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