By Jen Schumann | Rocky Mountain Voice
They tried to bury him. He’s still standing—with the paperwork to prove it.
On his 50th birthday, Kevin Kauffman stood waist-deep in the waters off Eilat, Israel. His son handed him a sealed envelope his accountant asked him to deliver on this day. He opened it, read what was inside and stood in silence.
It wasn’t just a numerical milestone in that envelope—it carried the weight of a life built by a self-made man. Kauffman had earned every cent the hard way, guided by mentors, not inheritance.
What he saw didn’t make him feel powerful. It made him reflect.
“The achievement led me to a deeply felt realization—I had a responsibility to my family and my community,” Kauffman said. “So I started thinking about how to give some of it back in a way that felt real.”
That was the moment the oilman and longtime aviator quietly began flying strangers as a medevac mission command pilot, transporting patients in crisis—free of charge. He didn’t do it for recognition.
He did it because he could. Because it was right. And because he knew the real measure of a life wasn’t what you built–but what you gave back to your community.
That clarity would serve him well. Because ten years later, Colorado Governor Jared Polis would set out to destroy everything Kauffman had built—and vowed to start with him.
He left Hollywood to build something real
Kauffman grew up in Los Angeles, surrounded by movie sets and producers. His grandfather was an Academy-award winning director and writer, and their connection ran deep. But he never wanted to stay in that world. His family had already survived enough illusion.
His other grandfather served as president of Warner Brothers Europe in 1930s Berlin and was murdered by the Gestapo in front of his own children. Kauffman’s father, grandmother, aunt and uncle made it out of Berlin alive, and his other grandfather brought them to London. Most of the extended family perished in the Holocaust
“The whole thing of surviving such evil,” he said, “it’s baked into my DNA.”
He left California in 1984, moved to Colorado and built a company from scratch at his kitchen table. K.P. Kauffman Company—known as KPK—grew quietly over decades into one of Colorado’s largest privately owned oil and gas firms.
Kevin Kauffman in KPK headquarters overlooking Denver
No partners. No debt. No shortcuts. Just determination, ingenuity and grit. At its peak, KPK operated around 1,400 wells in Colorado, employed around 300 people and fueled Colorado’s communities for decades.
Ramboll Report, p. 19 (Figure 17). Unlike most other operators, KPK consistently notified landowners about spill events—just 97 lapses versus hundreds by its peers.
The company also sustained hundreds of contractors and generated millions in ad valorem and property tax revenues that supported schools, roads and emergency services.
From The Oil‑Well Driller: A History of the World’s Greatest Enterprise, the Oil Industry (Charles A. Whiteshot, published 1905)—a book on the coffee table in Kevin Kauffman’s office. The map, likely drafted in 1903, shows the Boulder Field (left side of the map), part of the Sussex–Shannon formation in the Spindle Field where KPK still holds leases today.
But Kauffman didn’t just build oil wells. He built trust.
From 2005 to 2015, he served on the board of Denver Health, where he chaired the finance committee and helped oversee more than $1 billion in revenue. It was a pivotal decade and when the dust settled, the cardiology floor carried his family’s name—the Elaine and Kevin Kauffman Family Foundation.
He later spent ten years advising the cardiology team at CU Anschutz, and more than two decades flying his own jet and helicopter as a medevac mission command pilot with Angel Flight to serve others.
On July 17, 2015, Denver’s mayor issued a proclamation naming that day in honor of Kevin P. Kauffman, citing his service to the city and its people.
The proclamation stood in sharp contrast to what would follow—public honor on one hand, private targeting on the other.
In his office, a framed proclamation marks the day Denver officially honored Kevin P. Kauffman for his public service.
His philanthropy continued quietly. He served on a drug-free initiative with Pam Bondi. He and his wife Elaine donated millions through their family foundation. And so much more—a book could be written about it.
He flew children and veterans across state lines for life-saving medical care. One patient was a World War II veteran who wanted nothing more than to die at home. Kauffman flew him to Pagosa Springs, where thousands greeted him.
“Thank you, son,” the man said.
Another time, he flew a 7-year-old girl with cancer through a storm into Salt Lake City. When the flight nurse panicked and urged him to land immediately, he snapped, “If I die, we all die.” He landed the aircraft safely. But as he powered down his King Air, he turned around. The little girl had passed away.
“I walked to a bench and cried,” he said. After offering around 50 flight transports, he decided, “That was my last flight.”
Kauffman prepares for takeoff with his co-pilot on July 2, 2025. Although that day’s flight was grounded for safety, he flew dozens of patients in medical emergencies over the years—at his own expense.
“Starting with you”
In 2015, then-Congressman Jared Polis was pushing a 2,000-foot setback initiative that could have gutted Colorado’s oil and gas industry. Kauffman flew to Washington, D.C., to ask for a conversation. The meeting was direct.
“I want you and your industry out of business,” Polis told him. “It’s immoral and bad for the environment.”
Kauffman pushed back. He argued that the industry could produce hydrocarbons in an environmentally protective manner, and that phasing it out would only harm the state.
And as he’s said many times since, he believes it’s far more immoral to send young Americans to die protecting foreign oil than it is to produce clean-burning energy at home.
But Polis didn’t flinch. He said Coloradans wanted a carbon-free state—and that there were better uses for the land. Before leaving, Kauffman invited him to dinner at Ocean Prime in Denver with a group of oil and gas executives.
Polis showed up. And in front of a table full of industry leaders, he repeated his threat. Then he looked at Kauffman and added, “Starting with you.”
A blueprint for destruction
Polis was elected governor in 2018. Soon after, his administration began implementing its vision—codified in Senate Bill 19-181 and rebranded the Colorado Oil and Gas Conservation Commission (COGCC) as the Energy and Carbon Management Commission (ECMC).
The Polis Administration’s vision shaped regulatory enforcement. Agendas changed.
Governor’s marching orders on record
Before long, those marching orders were spoken aloud in a public forum. At a July 12, 2023 ECMC hearing, Commission Chair Jeff Robbins made clear that the governor’s office was not just observing the regulatory process—it was directing it.
At a July 12, 2023 ECMC hearing, Chair Jeff Robbins openly acknowledged that the Commission had “received a letter from Governor Polis outlining his expectations for the next steps in our regulatory work… it specifically addresses increased rulemaking over the coming year.” He told commissioners the Governor’s directive “sets a tone for how we should be approaching our work… to continue the state’s transition away from oil and gas dependence.” The changes ahead, Robbins said, would be “comprehensive” and “not… small tweaks to existing rules,” with drafting to begin immediately and formal proposals due by fall.
He emphasized that ECMC would coordinate closely with the Air Quality Control Commission and the Department of Public Health and Environment, framing the rules as part of a commitment to “reducing greenhouse gas emissions and addressing the impacts oil and gas operations have on nearby communities.”
Stakeholders would be invited to comment, Robbins said, but “ultimately this Commission will decide the direction and substance of the rules.” The work, he added, would “build on the legislative changes made in recent sessions, continuing to implement the vision laid out by the Governor and the General Assembly.”
For Kauffman, comments like these confirmed what he had been saying for years—that the Governor’s pledge to “start with you” was not rhetorical flourish. It was a plan in motion, filtering down from the top and reshaping the agency’s playbook.
From pledge to pursuit
And Kauffman had long been the target.
According to KPK’s 66-page federal complaint, filed August 1, this wasn’t random. The state’s crackdown was coordinated, deliberate and directed by people in charge.
In its lawsuit, KPK accuses the state of weaponizing inspections to fulfill a political promise made by the governor himself:
“Governor Polis started implementing his plan to phase out the oil and gas industry in Colorado, ‘starting with [KPK].’”
“On information and belief, ECMC leadership and possibly even the Governor, specifically directed inspection and enforcement staff to test the new rules by finding problems with KPK.”
“Inspection personnel were advised to ‘not leave empty handed’ from a KPK site.”
Inspections surged from several per month to as many as 17 a day. KPK alleges that regulators told vendors to stop working with them, inspectors told employees to “get out while you still can” and environmental specialists encouraged service providers to drop KPK as a client.
KPK’s filings reference an affidavit from a former ECMC field inspector who says he was ordered to target the company with excessive inspections and corrective actions.
In a 2025 ECMC hearing, Greg Deranleau, Deputy Director of Operations, unaware his microphone was still on, blurted that the agency should send new violations to KPK over paperwork tied to operations from more than 15 years ago. That wasn’t the first time intent had been spoken aloud. In a 2022 hearing, the same official stated plainly: “I think KPK should be put out of business.”
After an earlier settlement attempt in late 2022, KPK entered into a Compliance Plan Agreement that required the company to spend $9 million over five years on remediation and upgrades. But several months into the plan, ECMC staff pulled out, calling it a “bad bargain”—despite KPK having spent more than $7 million in early compliance work.
In 2023, the state levied $133 million in financial assurance requirements—reportedly the highest ever imposed in the U.S., setting a historic precedent. On top of that, the ECMC imposed millions in fines and issued shutdown orders that made it illegal to sell or transport KPK’s production.
“We’ve put $15 million of our own money into legal fees and remediation costs to fight this,” Kauffman said. “Because what they’ve done isn’t just wrong—it’s unconstitutional.”
To hear some tell it, you’d think Kauffman was a modern-day Rockefeller—amassing power through oil, untouched by community or consequence.
The numbers don’t lie—someone ordered this
KPK didn’t stumble into a string of unfortunate coincidences. It didn’t fall behind the pack. It wasn’t failing to meet state standards. It was targeted—and the numbers make that painfully clear.
Ramboll Report, p. 13 (Conclusion). A third-party analysis found that KPK was consistently held to stricter enforcement standards—despite having average or better performance.
From 2020 to 2022, the company submitted its forms on time, reported spills faster than most operators and had a lower ratio of repeat incidents. But what followed wasn’t a regulatory pat on the back—it was a campaign of obstruction.
KPK received more denials, more approvals with strings attached and more corrective actions than anyone else in the state. According to an independent analysis submitted with the federal complaint, KPK was issued 61 Form 27 denials over a three-year period—“up to 13 times more than any other operator in the study.”
That same report found KPK was handed up to eight times more Conditions of Approval (COAs) than its peers—burdens that slowed projects, increased costs and set the company up to fail.
It didn’t end there. KPK was also cited for more corrective actions per inspection—despite no upward trend in noncompliance. “Corrective actions cited for KPK were significantly higher,” the report noted, “even though the company’s operational data was consistent with or better than peer operators.”
By the time the data was fully compiled, even the experts couldn’t explain away the numbers.
“These data taken together cannot be explained away,” the report concluded. “Virtually no other operator is experiencing this level of scrutiny.”
The toll—and the line in the sand
Today, Kauffman lives with congestive heart failure, a condition that began after a dental procedure in 1997 led to a strep infection, damaging his heart. He wears a pacemaker and a defibrillator and has been hospitalized multiple times. After one hearing in 2025, he collapsed while speaking with his team and was caught mid-fall.
He’s come to believe that Polis would rather see him die than face the truth in court.
“They’ve seen me hauled out of restaurants in ambulances,” he said. “They know I’m on borrowed time—and they know I’m even less fearful than I ever was.”
Not everything has been a fight. In the middle of it all, moments of grace have found him.
“The medical community takes care of their own,” Kauffman said. “Really. That’s why they’ve poured everything into keeping me alive. So humbling.”
But what weighs most heavily on him now isn’t his health. It’s what comes after.
“It’s not about me anymore,” he said. “I’ve had a great life. This fight is about clearing our name—and making sure my grandchildren inherit the truth.”
Ramboll Report, p. 19 (Figure 16). KPK’s total spill volume was below that of larger companies—contradicting the narrative that it posed a greater environmental threat.
This story isn’t over
The federal complaint filed on August 1 is just one of several ongoing lawsuits. Witnesses, including former state employees, have already signed affidavits attesting to the regulatory targeting. And the constitutional stakes—due process, equal protection and abuse of power—are now squarely before the courts.
But for Kevin Kauffman, this story isn’t about the politics of energy. It’s about what happens when government power goes unchecked–and what it takes to stop it.
“I’ve always run my business on a simple principle,” he said. “Tell the truth, be transparent, make disclosure and let the chips fall where they fall. Then fix it properly. But never lie.”
The contrast with the state couldn’t be clearer. “The government used lies and intimidation across the board–with no regard,” Kauffman said.
His deeper concern, though, stretches beyond any single case. “The founders–Madison and Jefferson–wrote the Constitution to protect us from the very government they created and feared,” he said. “Article 1 and Article 2 gave power to the legislative and executive. Article 3–the judiciary–and the Bill of Rights were meant to protect the people from abuse of that power.”
Then he paused. “That’s my legacy. Standing up for the Constitution.”
In his view, the responsibility isn’t theoretical–it’s personal. “Tyranny has to be fought individually by each American,” Kauffman said. “It’s our duty as citizens.”
This may have been the final move in a long campaign, but the legacy he’s fighting for is still being written.
• Part One: The Rule 211 gamble – How two towns made history with a single PDF.
RMV requested comment from the governor’s office. As of publication, no response has been received.
![FD863768-0ACF-495E-9D21-2EF784DFFA6B[1]](https://rockymountainvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/FD863768-0ACF-495E-9D21-2EF784DFFA6B1-300x300.png)