The Fog of Rescue, Part II: Case Study

Transparency and accountability in question: An investigative report on Working Dogs of Nevada Rescue and the Jason Debus Heigl Foundation

When records vanish, so do the dogs. That was the central concern of The Fog of Rescue: Why Transparency Saves Lives, which raised questions about Working Dogs of Nevada Rescue’s (WDNR) recordkeeping and accountability. WDNR is backed heavily by the Jason Debus Heigl Foundation, whose support allows the organization to undertake substantial rescue efforts, though, as this article explores, questions remain about the transparency of those operations.

The response from WDNR founder Susan Davis and Foundation president Nancy Heigl has been quick, defensive, and occasionally threatening. Their emails, sent not only to this reporter but also to nearly 30 Los Angeles Animal Services officials and volunteers, underscore a central tension in animal welfare today: the demand for transparency versus the impulse to control narratives.

This second installment examines how WDNR and its principal funder, the Jason Debus Heigl Foundation, responded to calls for transparency, and what their responses reveal about accountability in animal rescue.

Transparency and proof of responsible care are not burdens for anonymous critics; they are fundamental responsibilities of organizations entrusted with vulnerable animals.

Nonprofit or For-Profit?

In a clarifying email, Davis acknowledged that WDNR operated for years “inside of Club K9, a 15,000 sq. ft. multimillion-dollar doggy hotel, daycare and training center” that she owned. WDNR dogs were housed at Club K9, cared for by Club K9 kennel technicians, and trained by Club K9 professional staff.

“Club K9 provided the services to WDNR directly,” Davis wrote, noting that WDNR paid the for-profit business she owned for those services.

This arrangement matters because nonprofit rescues are expected to direct donations toward animal care, not into affiliated for-profit businesses. The overlap raises a governance question: was WDNR functioning as an independent charity, or as a revenue stream for its founder’s private company? Donors may not have realized their charitable contributions were subsidizing the founder’s for-profit business.

Multiple sources report that WDNR receives as much as $5,800 per dog in support for rehabilitation. Adopters are also charged between $250 and $595 in “adoption fees.” On its face, such funding should ensure exemplary veterinary care, training, and transparency. But without records, it remains impossible to confirm whether the dogs receive services consistent with the level of financial support. The gap between reported funding and verifiable outcomes raises concern that WDNR may function less as a transparent rescue and more as a financial conduit.

Heigl credits WDNR with enabling her to rescue hundreds of behaviorally challenged dogs, a feat few small rescues can attempt. In her telling, the unusually high per-dog fees are evidence of the specialized care provided. That framing may help explain her firm defense of WDNR, even as critics argue those very claims deserve closer scrutiny.

After the Sale

In 2025, Davis sold Club K9. She admits that the loss of the facility forced a major restructuring.

“WDNR was forced to go into a privately owned rescue status due to the fact Club K9 was sold and since our staff was all payroll, workers’ compensation rules required our rescue organization to be a corporation,” Davis wrote.

The phrase “privately owned rescue status” has no clear legal definition in animal welfare. Most rescues are 501(c)(3) nonprofits; very few are structured as privately held corporations. Donors may reasonably ask: are contributions treated as charitable gifts, or revenue for a business? Davis did not provide documentation clarifying WDNR’s current tax or corporate status.

Today, WDNR operates without a central facility. Instead, Davis says, “dozens of fosters” and trainers’ homes now house the dogs. While foster networks are common in rescue, the absence of a centralized shelter complicates oversight and public accountability, particularly when caring for behaviorally challenging animals. When dogs with complex behavioral issues are placed in private homes and neighborhoods without robust screening, training, or support protocols, there can be serious safety implications for fosters, family members, and the public.

This raises the question: What protocols or supports does WDNR provide to ensure the safety of foster caregivers and the broader community? To date, none of the fosters or trainers Davis references have responded to Animal Politics’ requests for verifiable information.

This lack of clarity appears not just in organizational structure, but in day-to-day operations. In one recent exchange, a Nevada rescue asked whether WDNR’s $250 “discounted” adoption fee included spay and neuter. A straightforward question about veterinary care spiraled into contradiction and hostility. Davis first claimed the fee “covered the alter [sic]” while also insisting the puppies were “too young to spay and neuter.” When pressed, she accused the questioner of “harassment” and called them “a full disgrace to rescue.”

This episode underscores a broader tension in the rescue community. As another Nevada rescuer put it when asked if she could be quoted, “Anonymous please. Because I’m another rescue and there could be some backlash which I don’t want my Rescue getting involved.” Fear of retaliation has become so pervasive that even legitimate questions about basic standards of care are often asked in whispers.

Nancy Heigl dismissed such fears as “cowardice,” calling anonymity “unacceptable”; a position at odds with the lived reality of many rescuers who say they must remain unnamed to protect their organizations from retaliation. Her stance is made all the more curious by her adamant defense of WDNR’s opacity.

However, another rescuer pulled back the curtain by sharing WDNR’s adoption listings which amplify, rather than conceal, many questions raised by critics.

Notably, WDNR’s adoptable animals are listed on Adopt-a-Pet.com rather than through their official website. This reliance on a third-party platform, rather than maintaining direct control over their own public listings and records, is unusual among established rescues and complicates efforts to trace the outcomes of individual animals.

Puppies For Sale

On Adopt-a-Pet.com, WDNR presents itself as an operation focused almost exclusively on puppies or pregnant mothers, fostered in homes and prepared for adoption.

The description emphasizes “whelping and raising puppies,” socialization, and placement. Adoption fees are set at $595 per puppy, with assurances of microchipping, sterilization, and basic veterinary care. What is absent are outcomes for adult dogs, special-needs cases, or returns, hallmarks of most rescues that demonstrate breadth and accountability.

This narrow presentation, combined with relatively high fees, makes the page resemble aspects of breeder or retail puppy operations more than a traditional rescue program. Industry advocates stress this resemblance is not proof of intent, but it is strong evidence that greater transparency is needed if WDNR wishes to distinguish itself from commercial models.

The concern is magnified by WDNR’s recent shift from nonprofit to for-profit status. For-profit rescues are not obligated to file public financials, disclose donor support, or track adoption outcomes. Yet WDNR’s Adopt-a-Pet profile continues to describe the group as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and solicits donations accordingly. The discrepancy blurs the line between charity and commerce, leaving adopters and donors with no clear assurances about oversight.

Demands and Defiance

In multiple emails, Davis described Animal Politics’ reporting as “half-truths and rumors,” and warned that “legal action” would follow if her requests to unpublish were not met. Her tone has shifted from clarification to ultimatum: “My attorney has suggested that the whole interview with Nancy [Heigl] be taken down… you can publish your article again including your new fact-finding [after you] make sure it is accurate.”

She further challenged the premise of journalistic inquiry: “I look forward to one of your [sources] providing any proof of any animal abuse or neglect.” By reframing every concern as an accusation requiring proof of criminality, WDNR sidesteps questions that journalists and donors are entitled to examine.

This reframing obscures the fact that the central concern raised in The Fog of Rescue was not abuse. It was accountability: the ability of adopters, donors, and regulators to trace outcomes, confirm adoptions, and assess organizational practices.

This same defensive posture was mirrored by WDNR’s principal benefactor, the Jason Debus Heigl Foundation.

The Foundation Pushes Back

Nancy Heigl, whose foundation has long partnered with WDNR to rehabilitate dogs from Los Angeles shelters, responded with escalating frustration.

“It’s interesting that you are asking for transparency from WDNR but no transparency or proof from your ‘unnamed’ sources,” she wrote. “If we’re going to have transparency then it needs to come from all sources, including the ‘unnamed’ ones, who also need to step up, own and prove, their unfounded opinions and accusations.”

Transparency and proof of responsible care are not burdens for anonymous critics; however, they are fundamental responsibilities of organizations entrusted with vulnerable animals.

Nancy Heigl went further, asserting that the “unnamed” sources were not independent critics but Los Angeles Animal Services volunteers. Animal Politics has no record of receiving information from LAAS volunteers, yet Heigl’s assumption became the basis for a consequential decision.

In the same email, she announced a policy shift:

“No more JDF pulling from the city shelters. Those unfortunate dogs now will be heading down the hall to the euth rooms in the hundreds. Those are the numbers we were saving! Hundreds!”

By her account, the Foundation was rescuing hundreds of difficult-to-place dogs. Her withdrawal, framed as punishment for reporting what she sees as “half-truths and rumors,” would now, she believes, result in the death of “hundreds” of animals.

The irony is stark: while demanding proof from critics, Nancy Heigl makes life-and-death decisions based on unproven assumptions. Her withdrawal from Los Angeles appears to some as emotional leverage, using the fate of dogs against calls for accountability. And because WDNR offers no transparent records, no one can verify whether the animals ‘pulled’, have in the past, or would in the future, fare any better.

The Larger Question

The situation highlights a broader dilemma in the rescue world. When a nonprofit entwines itself with a for-profit business, and records are sparse or inaccessible, and leaders respond to questions with threats rather than documentation, the public is left in the dark.

Calls for transparency is not an attack; it is a safeguard. Rescues ask for public trust, public donations, and public partnership with municipal shelters. That trust cannot rest on assurances alone.

The Heigl Foundation and WDNR now face a pivotal choice: provide verifiable records that demonstrate integrity, or double down on opacity and reprisal.

In defending WDNR’s practices, Davis has pointed to privacy policies as evidence of responsible conduct: “Please compare our privacy policy to that of ‘the Asher House.’ We use the same owner surrender policy they use.”

This comparison blurs two distinct issues. Policies protecting the identity of owners who surrender pets are about privacy, while policies tracking shelter animal intakes, transfers, and adoptions are about accountability. Conflating pet owner privacy with shelter animal transparency undermines trust and misleads the public.

Moving Forward

Since the publication of The Fog of Rescue, some readers have begun posting firsthand accounts under their own names. One such comment came from Veronica Sanchez, who described transporting two dogs to WDNR. Dissatisfied with the lack of promised training, she retrieved one dog but was unable to recover the second, Louie, and reports that her attempts to seek updates have been met with “defensiveness and rudeness.”

While Animal Politics cannot independently verify such accounts, their very appearance undercuts the claim that all criticism is anonymous. They also reinforce the need for WDNR to release verifiable records that could either confirm or dispel such concerns.

Transparency is not the enemy of rescue. It is the proof that rescue is what it claims to be.

Conclusion

In a recent email to Animal Politics, Susan Davis reported that WDNR “saved 648 dogs in 2024” and 323 so far in 2025. Yet the organization’s 2024 Form 990 shows $1.47 million in program revenue for an average of about $2,262 per dog. That figure is far below the widely cited $5,800 per-dog rate.

Heigl herself told Animal Politics that puppies are taken in by WDNR at a ‘reduced rate,’ which may partly explain the gap. But even with discounted puppies, the numbers leave a multi-hundred-thousand-dollar discrepancy. Without public contracts, invoices, or outcome records, donors and the public cannot see how much was paid, for which dogs, or with what results.

The fog surrounding WDNR does not stem from lack of resources or complexity of mission. It stems from opacity. At every turn, corporate structure, financial accountability, simple veterinary care assurances, and straightforward questions yield contradictions, defensiveness, threats, or silence.

While WDNR may now operate as a private business, the responsibility for transparency does not disappear, especially when the animals originate from public shelters and when donor support and public trust remain central to rescue operations. Transparent reporting is not just a nonprofit obligation; it is fundamental to ensuring the safety and welfare of shelter animals entrusted to any organization, regardless of its tax status or funding sources.

The solution is simple: transparent reporting. Clear outcome data, corporate documentation, and accurate donor appeals could resolve questions immediately. Until then, WDNR’s heavy reliance on puppy sales, refusal to report on rehabilitation success rates, blurred nonprofit/for-profit identity, and its inconsistent financial narrative will remain part of the fog.

Invitation to Respond

Animal Politics remains committed to accuracy and welcomes further clarification. If Susan Davis, Nancy Heigl, or any representative of Working Dogs of Nevada Rescue or the Jason Debus Heigl Foundation wishes to correct, contest, or supplement any aspect of this report, their comments will be incorporated and noted in future updates.

Additionally, we invite anyone with documented, verifiable experiences, positive or negative, related to WDNR to share their account confidentially at animalpolitics8@gmail.com. Confidentiality will be respected.

Ed Boks is the former Executive Director of animal care and control agencies in New York City, Los Angeles, and Maricopa County, and a former board member of the National Animal Control Association. His work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, New York Times, Newsweek, Real Clear Policy, Sentient Media, and now on Animal Politics with Ed Boks—home to a vibrant community of readers in 48 states and 61 countries. Join the conversation shaping the future of animal welfare.