$504 Million. Hundreds of Jobs. One Ballot Most of Us Skip.

Here's a number that should stop you: the County of Kauai's proposed budget for the fiscal year that just started July 1 is $504 million: $365 million to run the place day-to-day, $139 million to build things. That's roughly 4% higher than last year, and it's Mayor Kawakami's last budget before he's term-limited out this December.

We went looking for a simpler number first, who actually employs the most people on this island, and ended up pulling the county's own line-by-line payroll. What we found changes the conversation from "who's the biggest employer" to something more useful: who's actually deciding how nearly half a billion of your dollars gets spent, and how thin is the line of accountability between you and that decision.

The headcount, department by department, pulled directly from Mayor Kawakami's FY27 budget submittal, the same document behind the $504M figure above:

  • Mayor's Office: 12 positions

  • Boards & Commissions: 6

  • County Council: 35 (28 regular staff and members, plus 7 constituent relations coordinators)

  • Elections: 11

  • County Attorney: 20

  • Prosecuting Attorney: 48

  • Finance (Accounting, IT, Treasury, Motor Vehicle, Real Property, Purchasing): 105

  • Human Resources: 26

That's 263 verified positions across these departments, plus roughly 245 more in the Kauai Police Department (per last year's finalized budget), for already over 500 positions, and we haven't even reached Fire, Public Works, Parks & Recreation, Housing, or the Water Department. Those departments still need to be counted, and departments of that kind commonly add hundreds more on an island this size, though that's a judgment call, not a confirmed figure. Full-time county government headcount plausibly clears 900, but that remains an estimate, not a count, until the rest is pulled. Even using only the numbers we can currently prove, this is one employer, one HR system, one budget, bigger than any single resort or business on this island by a wide margin.

To be clear, this isn't a story about government being too big. It's a story about scale most residents don't see, and about how few of us show up to decide who runs something this size.

Here's why that math matters more than who technically "employs the most people."

Every one of those positions, every dollar of that $504 million, ultimately answers to one Mayor and a seven-member County Council. Right now, that leadership is about to turn over almost entirely. Mayor Kawakami is term-limited out this December after two terms. Five candidates have already filed to replace him. Two sitting Council members are term-limited out too, meaning the Council enters this election with four open seats. As former state senator Gary Hooser told Civil Beat, it's been decades since the council has had so few incumbents seeking reelection.

That's not a footnote. That's the entire decision-making body for a $504 million operation and a workforce that already clears 500 confirmed positions, likely closer to a thousand once every department is counted, turning over at once, on one ballot, in one election most of us will barely think about until the week before it happens.

Here's the pattern worth noticing: plenty of us can name the last pothole that annoyed us faster than we can name our County Council representative. Permit delays, DMV wait times, and police response times all trace directly back to staffing and budget decisions made by the people on this ballot. We complain about the output constantly. Most of us have never read the budget, or a candidate's platform for running it.

You don't have to love government to understand this: half a billion dollars and hundreds of jobs, likely close to a thousand, are about to be handed to whoever wins in November. The size of that operation isn't an abstraction; it's the DMV line, the pothole on your road, the permit sitting on someone's desk, the police response time when you call. Every one of those runs through the budget and the people you elect to write it.

Sources: County of Kauai Fiscal Year 2026-2027 Operating Budget, Mayor's March Submittal (https://www.kauai.gov/files/assets/public/v/1/county-council/documents/budget/fiscal-year-2026-2027-operating-budget-mayors-march-submittal.pdf), which is the source for both the $504M total and the department-by-department position counts above; Honolulu Civil Beat reporting on the FY27 budget and the 2026 mayoral race; Kauai Now election coverage. The Kauai Police Department figure (245) is carried over from the prior year's finalized FY26 ordinance pending re-verification against the FY27 submittal. Fire, Public Works, Parks & Recreation, Housing, and Water Department totals were not yet available at publication and will be added in a follow-up. Figures reflect the Mayor's proposed budget; the County Council may amend before final adoption.

Coming next: We're finishing the count for Fire, Public Works, Parks, Housing, and Water, to get the real, full county headcount. And we'll be profiling the five people who want to run all of it. Subscribe so you don't miss it.

So, Who Actually Owns Kauai's Power Plant Right Now?

Drove past the Gap the other day. Whole field on the mauka side freshly cut, rows of stumps where trees stood a week before, chippers probably through there that same morning. I've seen that a hundred times driving that stretch. This time it got me wondering: who's actually running that plant these days?

Turns out that's a harder question to answer than it should be.

Everyone knows the story. Local guys, invasive albizia trees, first closed-loop biomass plant in the country. Feel-good Kauai innovation, chipping up trees nobody wanted into power for the grid.

That story died in 2022. Nobody updated you.

Quick gut-check before we go further: this is not a KIUC story. KIUC is your electric co-op, the one you pay, the one you own a piece of as a member. KIUC doesn't own this plant. It buys power from it, the same way you buy milk without owning the cow. KIUC isn't the question here. The dairy is.

Here's what we can actually prove.

The paper trail

2011. Green Energy Team files its power contract with the state. Nobody objects. Approved that October.

2012. Plant opens. $90 million build, backed by a $72.9 million federal loan guarantee. Local company, local jobs, local story.

July 2022. Hawaiian Electric Industries, the same HEI that owns Oahu's power company, buys it through a subsidiary called Pacific Current. Renamed Mahipapa. The "local" plant now answers to a NYSE-listed company most residents have never heard of.

March 2024. A vendor's welding work sparks a fire. It destroys the cooling tower. HEI confirms this in its own public filings.

Nine months later, the plant is still down. It doesn't come back online until December 2024. Doesn't hit full power again until early 2025.

Two years, zero profit. HEI's own disclosures say Mahipapa lost money in both 2024 and 2025 because of the outage.

December 2025. Mahipapa goes up for sale. A sister plant on the Big Island sells outright.

February 2026. Hoodline reports the sale closed. Pacific Current, out of assets, starts winding down for good.

July 2026. A sitting County Council candidate tells Civil Beat the plant is "for sale now."

Two respected sources. Five months apart. Opposite answers.

So which is it?

We checked the one place that can't lie to you: the state's own business registry.

As of today, Mahipapa's official state filing still lists Pacific Current as its one and only owner, same as it's said since 2021. No changes on file. Pacific Current's own website still claims the plant as theirs.

If this sale really closed, someone forgot to tell the paperwork.

Why you should care

This isn't corporate trivia. This plant generates 8 to 12% of the power KIUC sells you, locked into a contract that runs into the mid-2030s. It sits on over 1,100 acres of public land that belongs to the state, not to Mahipapa.

Your lights are fine. Your rates aren't changing today. But somebody controls a tenth of this island's power supply and a huge chunk of public land, and right now, we can't tell you with confidence who that somebody is. Neither, it seems, can the people who track this for a living.

We're not saying anyone's hiding anything. Sales fall through. Paperwork lags. Reporters get ahead of the facts sometimes. But when the state registry and the news say two different things five months apart, that's not a rumor. That's a fact worth putting in front of you.

If you know who actually owns Mahipapa right now, tell us. Reply to this email.

We'll keep digging. This is the first piece in an ongoing look at who really owns what on Kauai.

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