Answer before they file
Residents search everything you've already released, in plain language — and you see the requests that never had to happen.
Most requests ask for something that's already public. Brandeis answers those on the spot. The rest arrive sorted, assigned, and on your state's legal deadline — AI does the drafting, your staff make every call.
Yes — already public, no request needed:
Not published yet — I've drafted a request for you:
Residents get answers in seconds. Staff get requests that arrive organized.
Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants.
Louis D. Brandeis, 1913 — the namesake, and the job description. What's already public should answer itself. What isn't should leave only by a person's decision, on the record. That's the whole product.
Three trends, one desk.
Most offices are one person, wedged between other duties. Volume climbs. Headcount doesn't.
AI tools now write many of the requests — broader, faster, and around the clock.
The answer is usually already public — just nowhere a resident can find it. So a question becomes a case number.
Most records software does only the middle one.
Residents search everything you've already released, in plain language — and you see the requests that never had to happen.
Requests arrive sorted and assigned, departments reply from a link with no login, and the deadline comes from your state's law.
A permanent log no one can edit, redactions that can't be lifted off the page, and every release approved by a named person.
The same law, a different day at the desk.
More requests every year are written by AI assistants. Work with them instead of drowning in them.
A resident's or reporter's AI can search your public records and file for them — and it only ever sees what's already public.
Anyone can confirm a released file is the real one, right in their browser.
One report shows what got answered before it became a request — and what to publish next.
For the technical: every portal speaks MCP, so you can point an AI agent straight at it. Developer docs →
One at every stage of a request. Each drafts; your staff decide.
Answers residents from what you've already released, linked to the documents.
Sees only public records. Nothing else.
Sorts, scopes, and routes each request the moment it lands.
A coordinator accepts, edits, or discards.
Suggests whether each record is public and flags what the law may let you withhold.
Staff accept, edit, or dismiss every suggestion.
Proposes redactions line by line; approved ones are sealed into the page for good.
Every redaction confirmed by a person, then checked for leaks.
Clarifications, extensions, response letters, denials — with your state's appeal language.
Sent only by a staff member, under their name.
Answers questions about any request, and watches every clock nightly.
Every question it answers is logged too.
Watches what people keep asking for and points at the records worth posting.
A person decides what gets published, record by record.
Assembles counsel's file from the log — timeline, deadlines, exemptions, proof of release.
Drafted for counsel. It never sends itself.
Every agent action is logged, and with no AI switched on at all Brandeis still runs. How the guardrails work →

Its own portal, seal, deadline rules, staff, and residents — kept fully separate from every other agency.
Own path, seal, accent, and contact block. Residents never see another jurisdiction.
Business days, holidays, extensions — change states and the dates follow.
No other agency can reach your records — enforced by the software, not by policy.
Every office deserves the good version, whatever its size. After the first thousand, you pay for exactly three things:
The requests you run through the system. No seats, no modules.
The records you keep, publish, and serve.
Optional — our team takes on whatever desk work you'd rather hand off.
We open your records office with you — and the first 1,000 requests are on us.
Thirty minutes on the real product — your state's rules, your backlog, no slides. The about page has the thinking behind it.