When Medicaid patients are denied care, they’re told they have a right to appeal. On paper, that safeguard exists to protect the most vulnerable: a mother whose child’s cancer treatment was abruptly stopped, an elderly man who can’t get his heart medication, a disabled patient suddenly cut off from therapy. The appeal is supposed to be the safety valve that ensures mistakes get corrected.
But for Centene, one of the country’s largest Medicaid contractors, the process functions less like a safeguard and more like a trap door. Patients go in expecting fairness. What often emerges is silence, delay, and paperwork that suggests a resolution without ever fixing the problem.
The Promise of Oversight
Under federal law, Medicaid managed care companies must provide an appeals process when they deny care. States, in turn, are supposed to monitor how insurers handle those complaints. Every denial has to be tracked, every appeal logged, every reversal reported. This oversight is meant to ensure that companies like Centene don’t put profits ahead of patients.
But interviews with former employees, state auditors, and families caught in the system reveal a very different reality. Appeals often “disappear” in ways regulators rarely catch. Cases are marked as resolved when patients simply give up. Denials are overturned only on paper, with no guarantee the service will ever be delivered. And internal tracking systems allow Centene to report compliance numbers that look impressive while concealing the harm underneath.
“It’s a performance,” said a former Centene appeals specialist who worked in the company’s Midwest operations. “The goal isn’t to get the patient what they need. The goal is to close the file.”
How an Appeal Becomes a Dead End
The playbook, according to insiders and documents reviewed, follows a familiar sequence.
- Delay the clock: Once a patient files an appeal, Centene staff may request additional paperwork or “clarifications,” pushing deadlines back. In urgent cases, where Medicaid requires decisions within 72 hours, employees describe being instructed to “reinterpret” the urgency to buy time.
- Paper compliance: Even when appeals are granted, the decision is often coded in a way that satisfies regulators but leaves patients stranded. One tactic involves “administrative resolution,” where Centene records the case as overturned but never actually provides the denied service.
- Attrition by frustration: Patients who try to navigate multiple rounds of denials, phone calls, and resubmissions often give up. Centene then closes the case as “withdrawn.” On paper, it’s not a denial. In reality, it’s a lost battle.
A pediatrician in Texas described a toddler whose therapy sessions were cut off midyear. The family appealed. After months of calls, the denial was technically reversed. But the child’s therapy never resumed. “They showed compliance,” the doctor said, “but the patient got nothing.”
State Regulators in the Dark
States rely on Centene’s self-reported data to track appeal outcomes. On the surface, those numbers often show high compliance rates. Annual reports highlight how many denials are overturned, how quickly cases are resolved, and how few patients escalate complaints to state hearings.
But those statistics can mask systemic problems. An audit in Ohio, for example, found that Centene’s subsidiaries routinely miscoded appeals. Denials that were never addressed showed up as resolved. Cases where patients stopped fighting were counted as withdrawals, not failures.
“The oversight structure is toothless if you can’t see what’s happening behind the curtain,” said a former Medicaid official who reviewed Centene’s appeal records. “The data looks fine. The outcomes do not.”
Human Stories, Hidden in the Numbers
For patients, the stakes are devastatingly real.
In one case, a mother in Missouri appealed a denial for her son’s seizure medication. The case dragged for months. Centene reported the issue as resolved in its quarterly filings. By the time the medication was finally approved, the boy had been hospitalized twice for uncontrolled seizures.
In Florida, an elderly man appealed after being denied home health care. His family said Centene marked the case as closed after the appeal “timed out,” even though they never received a ruling. He died weeks later after a fall at home.
“These aren’t just technicalities,” said a legal aid attorney who has represented dozens of Medicaid patients against Centene. “Every disappearing appeal is a person who didn’t get the care they were entitled to.”
The Business Incentive
The quiet erosion of appeals isn’t accidental. For Centene, each successful denial represents cost savings. The fewer services delivered, the more profit retained. Appeals, if handled aggressively, threaten that balance.
According to former staff, Centene built internal dashboards that tracked appeal overturn rates. Managers were pressured to keep those numbers low. “We were told flat out,” one said. “‘Every overturned denial is money out the door.’”
The result was a culture where compliance was measured by metrics, not outcomes. As long as regulators saw closed files, the company could claim success, even if patients never got what they needed.
A Cycle That Protects the Company
The broader Medicaid system helps shield this cycle. Patients must often exhaust Centene’s internal appeals before they can request a state hearing. By the time they reach that stage, many are too sick, too exhausted, or too broke to continue.
Even when cases reach state hearings, Centene has legal teams on standby. Families rarely do. Outcomes tilt predictably in the company’s favor.
Meanwhile, the state agencies that contract with Centene face political pressure to keep Medicaid programs running smoothly. Prolonged disputes over appeals numbers risk exposing deeper flaws and calling into question billions in payments. Silence becomes a convenient outcome for both sides.
What Disappears When Appeals Disappear
The right to appeal was designed to be the last line of defense in Medicaid. For Centene’s patients, it often functions as a mirage. Families believe they are fighting for care. In reality, they are fighting an administrative machine designed to outlast them.
“Appeals are supposed to correct errors,” said the former Centene specialist. “Instead, they erase them.”
The disappearances don’t show up in glossy compliance reports or settlement agreements. They exist in the gaps between paperwork and reality, in the child without therapy, the elder without home care, the patient whose denial was reversed but never resolved.
For Centene, those disappearances are profitable. For patients, they are catastrophic.
