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I've been Nick Shirley's cameraman for three years. I was with him in Minnesota when we filmed the ghost daycares—rows of empty buildings supposedly caring for hundreds of children, collecting millions in federal funds. Nobody home. Just locked doors and our footsteps echoing through abandoned hallways.

That footage got 50 million views. Nick became the guy who exposed the largest childcare fraud in American history.

Three weeks ago, Nick got a tip about South Carolina. "Same situation," he told me. "Maybe worse. I need you on this."

I should have stayed in Minnesota.

The Arrival

I knew something was wrong when we pulled into the parking lot of Little Learners Academy on Augusta Road in Greenville, SC. A woman was already walking toward our car holding two lanyards with our names printed on them.

"Welcome to Little Learners," she said. "I'm Director Tammy Holcombe. We've been expecting you."

Nick didn't flinch. He's filmed corrupt politicians, confronted fraudsters on camera, doorstepped executives. A daycare director didn't scare him. He stepped out of the car, camera up, ready to document the scam.

The building was quiet. Too quiet. Just like Minnesota.

"Ma'am," Nick said slowly, "where are the kids?"

Director Holcombe just smiled.

Nick checked his notes. "This facility is licensed for 200 children. You're claiming $2.3 million in annual subsidies. So I'll ask again—where are the kids?"

"Mr. Shirley," she said, still smiling, "that is the least of your problems."

The Clipboard

Nick tried to push past her into the main room. A large man in a polo shirt that said "LITTLE LEARNERS SECURITY" appeared from nowhere and blocked the hallway.

"I'm afraid I can't let you through without the proper documentation," Holcombe said, producing two clipboards. "Standard visitor release forms. Insurance purposes. South Carolina state law requires them before any non-employee enters the childcare areas."

Nick grabbed the clipboard. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

He signed without looking. He was too focused on what he assumed was an empty building behind that door. I followed his lead. I did not read page two.

"Wonderful," Holcombe said, taking the clipboards back. She nodded to the security guard. He stepped aside. "Right this way, gentlemen."

The door clicked open. We walked through.

The door clicked shut behind us. I heard the lock engage.

The Children

They were everywhere.

Running, screaming, laughing, crying, asking questions, demanding juice, showing us drawings of what they claimed were horses but were actually rectangles with circles. The building was full of them. Every child on the enrollment roster existed. They all had opinions. Loud ones.

Nick turned back to the door. Locked. He spun around to face Holcombe, who had somehow appeared on this side of the door without us noticing.

"This doesn't make sense," Nick said. "The funding numbers suggested—"

"That we were running a ghost daycare?" Holcombe laughed. "Mr. Shirley, we are the most efficient childcare operation in the Southeast. Every dollar accounted for. Every child present. Every state inspection passed with flying colors."

"Then why won't you let us leave?"

Holcombe tilted her head. "Leave? Mr. Shirley, you're on the schedule. You both are." She held up her tablet, showing our signed documents. "Page two. Binding employment contract. Your background checks cleared before you finished parking—our security cameras have facial recognition linked directly to SLED. You're B-negative, registered Independent in Minnesota. Your cameraman is O-positive, Georgia, Democrat." She smiled. "You both start immediately. Nick, you're at the craft station. Marcus, you're on snack distribution."

A three-year-old tugged on Nick's pants and handed him a glue stick. "Fix the google," she demanded.

Nick, a man who has received death threats from organized crime figures, quietly began gluing construction paper.

The Footage

Nick's Minnesota footage showed empty hallways, locked doors, silence. Evidence of systematic fraud.

My Greenville footage is 47 consecutive plays of "Baby Shark" and Nick getting tackled during something called "Hug Attack Time," which happens every day at 2:15 PM without warning.

There is one clip where Nick looks directly into the camera and whispers, "There are so many of them, Marcus. They're all real. Every single one of them is real."

He was supposed to be exposing a scam. Instead he was wearing a macaroni necklace and learning the choreography to "The Wheels on the Bus."

We Are Not The First

The other employees told us their stories during our designated fifteen-minute lunch break.

The UPS driver who delivered packages here in October now works Tuesdays and Thursdays. A health inspector who came to check the kitchen in September is their best nap time supervisor. There's a guy named Gerald who claims he was just dropping off his niece eight months ago. Gerald runs the art station with Nick now.

"One hundred percent conversion rate," Holcombe told us during our first performance review. "Every adult who walks through that door leaves as an employee. It's Southern hospitality, gentlemen. We don't let anyone leave without a job."

"This can't be legal," Nick said on day three. He'd already contacted two lawyers. Neither would take the case. One of them started crying and hung up.

Holcombe overheard him and smiled. "Mr. Shirley, everything we do here is completely above board. You're welcome to leave whenever you'd like."

Nick's eyes lit up. "We can leave?"

"Of course. Page four of your contract outlines the voluntary separation clause. You simply forfeit any and all assets, including retirement accounts, real property, and—" she checked her tablet, "—residual YouTube revenue from prior investigative work. Your Minnesota videos have done quite well. We calculate your buyout at roughly $2.1 million."

Nick went pale.

"Bless your heart," Holcombe said. "Did you not read page four either?"

We did not read page four.

Current Status

Nick's ghost daycare video has 50 million views. His South Carolina video has 847 views and consists entirely of him crying while a child braids his hair.

My camera equipment is destroyed. There is Play-Doh in the battery compartment. The zoom lens smells like apple juice and I cannot get the smell out. Nick suggested we "document our situation" but every time we try to film, a child asks us to watch them jump.

We have to go. It's almost Hug Attack Time and Nick still hasn't learned the defensive positioning.

If you are a journalist planning to investigate South Carolina daycares, do not accept the clipboard. Do not make eye contact with Director Holcombe. Do not enter the building. They are efficient. They are prepared. They have your name on a lanyard before you finish parking.

Marcus Chen is a former freelance videographer and current Lead Snack Distributor at Little Learners Academy. Nick Shirley is a former investigative journalist and current Craft Station Coordinator. They can be reached during designated break times only, which are never.