I didn’t set out to be a journalist.
But two moments changed my course. The first seed was planted when I was a cub reporter in a small newsroom outside San Antonio. Another reporter broke a story about drug use on a local sports team, and I remember thinking: I want to do that. I want to break stories like that. I didn’t know it then, but that moment lodged itself deep.
The second came in West Texas. A column I wrote about a Vietnam veteran’s family fighting for the 21-gun salute he’d been denied prompted a group of Fort Concho re-enactors to show up in uniform and give him the honor. Standing in the morning dew, his widow hugged me, cried, and whispered a thank you. That’s when I saw — up close — the power stories have to move people to act.
🎥 Here’s a short video I did for The Denver Gazette about why I became a journalist.
In San Angelo, I went on to report corruption at the Public Housing Authority and exposed how the school district encouraged dropouts to say they were home schooling. Those stories set me on the course of digging into the things people in power would rather keep quiet — work I still enjoy today (well, most days).
I’ve been chasing stories that bring light (and sometimes heat) ever since.
Black and white has always been my medium — from newspapers to photographs to the messy stories I try to make sense of. It’s where the truth shows up most clearly.
Over a 25-year career, I’ve written impactful, award-winning stories across Texas, California, Pennsylvania, and Colorado. My work has examined immigration, the COVID-19 pandemic, Pennsylvania’s broken death-penalty system, the historic Texas drought, failing nursing-home care and guardianship abuses and more.
In Colorado, I uncovered a Denver Public Schools email revealing plans for a “secret” board discussion about restoring police to campuses. That discovery became central in a lawsuit where a judge ordered the recording of the meeting released. I’ve also built data-driven explainers on everything from school finance to the real costs and benefits of unauthorized immigration.
When I’m not filing records requests or chasing deadlines, you can usually find me reading obsessively, doomscrolling TikTok or escaping on long day hikes.
I also host the podcast Single, again — and write its companion blog, Stay Waterproof. (Healing disguised as humor is kind of my specialty.)
At my core, I believe journalism should do two things: hold power to account and remind us we’re not alone. That’s my throughline. The thread that ties together all that I do — whether filing records requests or laughing through heartbreak on my podcast, I’m always digging for the truth. Because stories — the hard ones and the healing ones — are what keep us connected.
Nico Brambila 