By Frank Parlato
A report on the CharityWatch website, written by executive director Laurie Styron, raised questions about D.E.L.T.A. Rescue, a no-kill animal sanctuary in Acton, California.
The headline read: “CharityWatch Investigates: Millions in Missing Donations and a $6.7 Million Legal Judgment Against Large Animal Sanctuary.”
The article begons: “A large animal rescue charity reports granting $2.5 million in donations to a related nonprofit that shares the same board members. That charity does not report receiving them. Where did the money go?”
The article’s central claim — that $2.5 million in donations are “missing” concerns transfers between D.E.L.T.A. Rescue and two affiliated 501(c)(3) organizations: Living Earth Productions and Horse Rescue of America. No money is missing.
$2.5 Million Missing? No — Just Accounting Misread
While the article does not cite any missing funds in the legal or regulatory sense, it does raise the possibility that DELTA and its affiliated not-for-profits accounted for money differently than Styron expected.
In her article, Styron observes that founder Leo Grillo “prefers to focus on the animal care side of things,” and writes that “exactly who… takes charge of the business side of things is not apparent.”
Grillo has concentrated much of his energy for 45 years on rescuing, feeding, and sheltering tens of thousands of abandoned animals.
The article does not cite any instance of financial mismanagement.
Styron notes that Grillo previously worked in film and television and currently puts in 80 hours a week without taking a salary.
CharityWatch, which Styron runs, is responsible for grading the governance of the nonprofits she selects to evaluate and managing the operations of
CharityWatch — from writing reports to interpreting financial statements and maintaining the website and fundraising to pay her salary.
Her writing style employs a careful, deliberate tone. She favors phrases like “not apparent,” “unclear,” and “may call into question”— expressions that allow her to raise red flags of concern without asserting conclusions.
IRS Schedule R Already Told the Story — Styron Just Didn’t Understand It
While Styron does not cite evidence that DELTA misused any funds, Styron writes that something is “not adding up,”
In this case, Styron does not understand standard nonprofit reporting practices. She presents it as $2.5 million in missing money.
D.E.L.T.A. Rescue and Living Earth Productions (LEP) are separate but related nonprofit organizations. DELTA sometimes pays vendors directly for work that supports LEP’s projects, such as documentaries or educational outreach.
DELTA records these payments as grants.
LEP, however, doesn’t list them as donations because the money never enters LEP’s bank account — it goes straight from DELTA to LEP’s service providers. This arrangement is common among nonprofits that share services or staff.
The relationship between the two groups is disclosed fully on IRS Schedule R, the form designed to report these kinds of connections.
Styron’s lack of understanding boils down to her incomplete knowledge of accrual and fiscal year accounting, and that one accounting firm logs internal allocations; the other only logs cash received. No money is gone. The fact that Styron could even identify the $2.5 million came from DELTA and LEP’s IRS filings.
Styron brought an incomplete understanding to the public’s attention and called it missing money. It shows a determination to hold charities to the kind of standards she believes they should follow. It is not her fault that she has no CPA certification and no formal accounting background. The
DELTA accounting is correct. The disclosures meet the IRS rules.
Readers should also not fault Styron for not getting outside experts to advise her.
She manages CharityWatch on her own. Her salary accounts for most of the organization’s reported revenue — around $500,000 per year — leaving little room to hire outside experts or commission independent reviews.
Without peer review or professional accounting staff, the demands of raising funds, maintaining operations, and producing content fall to Styron alone. Deep-dive investigations and technical accuracy are difficult to achieve under such conditions.
The Case of Duarte: What Styron Missed in the Fine Print
Styron’s other big question about DELTA is based on her incomplete understanding of the Duarte v. D.E.L.T.A. Rescue trial. Styron did not have access to trial transcripts. She was likely unaware that the judge excluded key evidence from the trial, including Duarte’s use of a false Social Security number to get the job in the first place and her theft of hundreds of thousands of dollars of food and supplies from DELTA, which was the cause of Duarte’s termination.
Readers could hardly expect Styron to understand the intricacies of the insurance industry. She likely did not know that D.E.L.T.A. Rescue’s insurer, NIAC, was in financial distress and is alleged to have limited the defense’s trial resources while declining to settle within policy limits.
Styron concludes that the $6.7 million judgment poses a serious threat to the sanctuary’s operations. She did not know that the amount was reduced to $3 million by the judge, who noted concern that an appellate court could overturn the verdict on appeal.
D.E.L.T.A. Rescue — as Styron acknowledges — reported $14.9 million in assets and $11.5 million in cash as of 2023. There is no indication of financial collapse or operational disruption. DELTA has not paid the reduced jury award of $3 million. Duarte may never receive it.
According to sources, Homeland Security may arrest Duarte for her criminal conduct in using a false social security number, insurance fraud, employment fraud (when Duarte was busy cheating on her husband, which got her pregnant, she charged DELTA for overtime), and grand larceny, and deport her as a deportable alien.
Her husband, Raul Lopez, may also be deported for his alleged attempted murder of Duarte’s lover. If, however, Duarte were to prevail somehow, DELTA retains resources to satisfy the reduced judgment.
But Styron is not in a position to fully assess the legal and financial posture of a nonprofit under litigation. That would require expertise she does not possess.
CharityWatch Casts Doubt, Not Evidence
So Styron raises questions. She asks whether D.E.L.T.A. Rescue can “continue as a going concern,” a phrase with specific legal and financial implications. She does not cite evidence of insolvency, default, or operational disruption.
The article relies on suggestive language and omits the legal and procedural record. For one person, balancing writing, fundraising, and oversight means she has to make a strong impression even if she cannot gather all the facts.
Sometimes, the appearance of confidence and knowledge can be effective.
When Styron adds a note of concern: “What will happen to the sanctuary’s animals… is anybody’s guess,” she means it to be effective.
There has been no disruption to operations in DELTA’s 45-year history. This is the first time anybody has ever raised such a question.
Styron’s expression of concern is cunning. If donors take her claims at face value, it could affect support for the animals.
CharityWatch depends on donor support. And in a crowded field, urgency is difficult to generate without raising concern.
Question Marks Don’t Feed Animals — But They Feed CharityWatch
CharityWatch does not assign D.E.L.T.A. Rescue a formal grade. Instead, it gives the organization a “?”— a placeholder that raises questions without drawing conclusions.
Faced with interrelated entities, divergent accounting methods, and unfamiliar nonprofit structures, she withheld judgment.
In doing so, she acknowledged a lack of clarity — not in D.E.L.T.A.’s reporting, but in her ability to understand it.
Other evaluators with dedicated, qualified staff and broader analytic models have been able to understand DELTA and issue formal ratings. Charity Navigator gives D.E.L.T.A. Rescue a 4-star score (90%). Candid has awarded its highest designation, the Platinum Seal of Transparency.
At the center of Styron’s report lies a single word: “missing.” The phrasing implies loss, concealment, or misuse.
But the financial records — including IRS Form 990s and Schedule R disclosures — show DELTA reported the grants and disclosed the transfers. The money moved between related entities for specific, important, documented purposes that match the mission of the not-for-profits. Styron doesn’t allege theft. She doesn’t use the word fraud. She chooses “missing,” and lets the inference do the rest.
CharityWatch declined to grade D.E.L.T.A. Rescue, assigning instead a “?” and warning of “highly questionable financial reporting.”
This came despite the absence of any regulatory complaint, audit flag, or legal finding. No agency has accused D.E.L.T.A. of impropriety — but Styron never says anything outright. Her language is measured, conditional. Words like “may,” “could,” and “raises concerns”
It’s a method that protects her from legal exposure while allowing her message to garner attention for herself. If that message has the effect of diverting donors away from the organizations she critiques — and toward her platform — that is a good thing for her. It permits her to live the lifestyle she has grown accustomed to enjoying.
When the Watchdog Has No Watchers
CharityWatch is a solo operation — with no board of reviewers, no CPA credentials, and no published audit of its own. It is something few readers are likely to notice and unlikely to donate to if they understood what Charity Watch is. The name Charity Watch suggests something larger. And perhaps that is its greatest strength: to appear institutional, even when it is one person, trying to make a living.
CharityWatch does not publish a complete methodology for its ratings, nor does it describe any formal auditing process. The model relies on Styron’s subjective judgment — shaped by limited resources, limited knowledge, a staff of one, and a steady need for public support.
It’s a lean and effective business model. With no known board of reviewers and no external oversight, she streamlines decisions. Nine animal charities currently carry low to failing grades from CharityWatch, even as they retain top-tier ratings from other evaluators.
Grillo, for his part, seemed less concerned with appearances. “We take care of the animals,” he said. “Everything is on our filings. We have nothing to hide.” That kind of simplicity works for a man who has built his life around direct care.
CharityWatch depends not on feeding animals, but on feeding doubt.
The CharityWatch article on D.E.L.T.A. Rescue raised urgent-sounding questions. It did not offer documentation — no misused funds, no flagged audit, no complaint from any agency. The sanctuary still operates. The animals live safely and well-fed. The records, as filed, remain public.
Styron built her article on insinuation, omission, and timing. A question mark, a careful phrase, a missing page number — and the reader fills in the rest.
Styron doesn’t waste time praising sanctuaries, or vet hospitals, or the no-kill legacy Grillo helped build. She omits the animals, skips the mission, focuses on the ledger that she does not understand, finds a question mark, and turns it into a headline.
In the End, the Report Was About CharityWatch, Not DELTA
CharityWatch is capitalism in a disguised form: identify a market need, create the problem, then sell the solution. That’s not malice. That’s hustle.
Styron, who runs CharityWatch, also operates Styron Consulting, a private firm in the same field she publicly evaluates. There’s no posted client list, no conflict-of-interest policy, and no audit of CharityWatch itself.
CharityWatch’s article closes with a cliffhanger: What will happen to the animals?
Then the donation pitch — not for the animals, but for CharityWatch. Her article never documented a single misused dollar, a diverted grant, or a mistreated animal — not one in 45 years.
She didn’t accuse. She implied. She never visited the sanctuary. Never interviewed staff, never met a single dog, cat, or horse saved by DELTA.
If even one of the concerns Styron raised in her article had the slightest merit, a regulator would have acted. None did. But the article wasn’t about D.E.L.T.A. Rescue. It was about CharityWatch, and her salary, that she must raise all by herself.
CharityWatch is a solo platform. It publishes no audits, no annual reports, no third-party evaluations, and offers no appeal process to the nonprofits it critiques. By CharityWatch’s standards, CharityWatch would get an “F” grade.
But the platform is nimble and resourceful, especially when it comes to raising questions that lead, eventually, to raising money. She never proved wrongdoing at D.E.L.T.A. Rescue. But she succeeded in creating concern. That is the business model.
The watchdog barks from a safe distance. She makes well into the six figures, maybe even seven figures, with her private consulting and travel perks.
And the animals? They never came up at all.
