Ellen Brideau has spent twenty years in Massachusetts assessing, following a career path that started in Connecticut back when hard cards and pricing manuals were the only tools available. Now the assessor in Lowell, Massachusetts, Ellen brings a multigenerational perspective to the profession — her mother, sister, and now her daughter all work or have worked in assessment. In this conversation, Ellen makes a case that annual reassessment isn't the burden people think it is, that tax exemptions have drifted far from fair, and that AI-generated appeals are an emerging threat assessors need to take seriously right now.
What stands out most in Ellen's perspective is her willingness to say things that are, in her own words, "politically incorrect" — particularly around who should and shouldn't be paying property taxes. She also shares a striking story about an AI-generated appeal that sent her down a six-hour rabbit hole before she discovered it was built on fabricated data.
Massachusetts requires assessors to reassess annually, with a full certification every fifth year. Ellen argues this isn't the administrative headache it sounds like. Once you're in the rhythm, she says, you're doing the same things every year. More importantly, annual revals insulate assessors from public backlash.
When markets go up, values go up. When markets drop, values drop. The public sees that the system is responsive, not punitive. Compare that to states like North Carolina, where reassessments happen every seven years. If your reval lands in 2008, you're stuck defending those values for the better part of a decade. Annual reassessment removes the appearance of cherry-picking favorable market conditions. As Ellen puts it: "We can't be accused of chasing the market."
This is a genuine competitive advantage for jurisdictions that commit to annual updates. It builds trust, and trust is the currency assessors trade in.
Ellen doesn't hedge on this one. She believes every property owner should pay taxes. Churches. Nonprofit hospitals. Private universities. All of them.
In New England, where property taxes stay at the municipal level rather than flowing to a county, exemptions hit especially hard. When a private university consumes police and fire resources but contributes nothing to the tax base, the burden shifts directly to homeowners and small businesses in that same community. It's a zero-sum equation, and the exempt institutions are winning.
Ellen shares a positive example from a previous role: a private university that negotiated a PILOT (payment in lieu of taxes), covering a percentage of the police and fire costs attributable to their campus. That struck her as fair. The current system, where large institutional landowners consume public services without contributing, does not.
This is an argument more assessors should be making publicly. The exemption landscape has ballooned well past its original intent, and the people absorbing the cost are rarely the ones with lobbyists.
Ellen returns repeatedly to a simple point: if property owners won't let assessors inside their homes, the data suffers and so do the assessments. When staff have to guess at interior condition, they're going to miss. Sometimes high, sometimes low — but always less accurate than an actual inspection would yield.
The irony is that homeowners who refuse access out of fear of higher assessments may actually be hurting themselves. Without good data, an assessor might overvalue a property based on exterior characteristics alone, missing the dated kitchen or the deferred maintenance that would bring the value down.
This is a communications challenge as much as a data challenge. Assessors need to get better at explaining that inspections aren't adversarial — they're the mechanism by which fairness is achieved. Ellen frames it well: "We don't make the market, we interpret the market." But interpretation requires information.
Perhaps the most urgent part of the conversation happens almost casually. Ellen mentions she's presenting in Calgary on how to identify and defend against AI-generated appeals. The backstory is telling: about a year ago, she received an appeal so polished and detailed that she spent six hours tearing apart her own database before discovering the filing was entirely AI-generated — and full of fabricated information.
Since then, she says, AI appeals have been "coming in fast and furious." The sophistication is what makes them dangerous. They look legitimate. They cite data that sounds real. And they can consume enormous amounts of staff time before anyone realizes the underlying claims are false.
This is a problem that's going to scale rapidly. As AI tools become more accessible, the volume and quality of automated appeals will increase. Assessors need to develop protocols for flagging these filings early — pattern recognition, verification checklists, and potentially AI tools of their own to spot the fakes. The asymmetry right now favors the appellant, and that needs to change.
Ellen also makes a point worth amplifying: in Massachusetts, you don't need a college degree to become an assessor and work your way up to running an office. What you need, she says, is attitude and aptitude. The profession is wide open for people willing to learn and be patient. That's a message worth broadcasting at a time when every jurisdiction is struggling to recruit.
Annual reassessment protects assessors from public distrust, but the real threats are shifting. Bloated exemption rolls erode the tax base from within, while AI-generated appeals threaten to overwhelm offices from without. Assessors who aren't preparing for both are already behind.