It's funny how supposedly small-gub'mint Republicans, such as our new Governor Doug Ducey, actually will seek an expansion of state power when it's in their interests. Such was the case with Ducey's recent attempt to channel his inner Vladimir Putin and establish a mini-KGB in the form of a state Inspector General's Office. All state departments would have to comply with the new IG, who would have subpoena powers, according to the proposed legislation. And whistleblowin' on the IG would be outlawed.

Putatively, the reason for the new office, a pseudo-Attorney General's Office answerable only to Ducey, was to root out government corruption. But Ducey's sneaky 11th-hour use of a strike-everything amendment to pass the law during the last legislative session tipped his hand. Ducey even tried an end-run around Attorney General and fellow Republican Mark Brnovich, neglecting to tell the AG of the effort. Fortunately, the Legislature adjourned before this turkey could get passed. But you can bet Ducey's camp will give it another go in 2016.

We love a good protest, especially when it's led by tenacious underdogs and gives us an excuse to spend time in the Tonto National Forest. The Occupy Oak Flat movement is both of these things, not to mention an all-around badass campaign — hats off to you, occupiers! They've camped out in an area of Oak Flat Campgrounds for months as part of their protest against a sneaky, last-minute land-exchange deal passed by Congress. The deal gave the mining company Resolution Copper the thousands of acres of Oak Flat — a well-known rock-climbing and recreation hub, and a culturally and spiritually significant spot for Native American tribes throughout the Southwest — so the company could access the huge deposit of copper ore sitting a mile below ground. When word of the deal came out, a small group of San Carlos Apache set up their protest, and vowed not to leave until it was repealed. The movement grew quickly, and people came from all over the world to show support. Months later, it's still going strong.

Dubbed "the secret police bill," Senate Bill 1445 — which prevented law enforcement from releasing the name of an officer involved in a violent incident for 60 days — was one of the most hotly contested bills on the floor this legislative session. People came out in droves to speak against the proposal, and it garnered the attention of the ACLU, the NAACP, and the Black Lives Matter campaign. (The bill did have a few vocal supporters, including the Phoenix Law Enforcement Association.) As it slowly made its way through the Senate and then through House, and then to Governor Doug Ducey's desk, we began to really worry it would become a law. Ducey gave little indication about whether he supported the proposal, and on the day he was slated to consider it, a large crowd gathered outside his building, ready to celebrate or protest. Jubilation is probably the best word to describe what happened when word came down that SB 1445 got a big, fat veto. And in a year when other ridiculous bills (cough, cough, ban on banning plastic bags) somehow became law, this one victory deserves to be celebrated.

It's not every day that the police solve a decades-old double-homicide cold case, especially one that struck fear in the hearts of white, middle-class families throughout the Valley. But in January, Brian Patrick Miller, the 42-year-old man suspected of committing the "Canal Murders" in 1992 and 1993 was taken into custody and charged with murder. DNA evidence linked him to the brutal deaths of Angela Brosso, 22, and Melanie Bernas, 17, both of whom had disappeared while on bike rides and then turned up dead in Phoenix canals days later. Before his arrest, Miller was known around the Valley as "the Zombie Hunter" because he would ride around in a vintage police car painted with fake blood while wearing a trench coat and a gas mask and toting a bizarre-looking gun. The police had looked at him as a suspect in the mid-'90s, but the forensic science of the day wasn't strong enough to link him to the murders. He's set to go to trial later this year, and police have said they aren't ruling out a connection to other cold case murders.

There are dozens of nonprofits around the county doing amazing work every day for the homeless, but one really stands out for going above and beyond this year. When residents took to the streets protesting the county's practice of allowing a hot, crowded, and dirty parking lot to substitute for a shortage of shelter space, the LDRC stepped up to the challenge and found a solution. Not only did staff immediately begin coordinating with officials from the city, county, state, and private sector to secure funding for a massive rapid re-housing program, but they scrambled together resources, volunteers, and trained new employees in order to turn the center into a dignified overnight emergency shelter. Now, every evening, hundreds of men and women who previously slept out on the street can spend the night in an air-conditioned, clean, and safe space that's staffed by employees trained in crisis prevention or case management. The LDRC believes that a shelter should be about engaging clients and helping connect them to services, not just providing a roof to sleep under. And we think they're doing a great job in proving this approach works.

How many 20-somethings can boast that they took down a Republican state attorney general? That's pretty much what former Republican fundraiser and ex-AG staffer Sarah Beattie did when she came forward during the 2014 GOP primary and revealed what many had already surmised: that Arizona Attorney General Tom Horne was using the AG's Office as his unofficial campaign headquarters. Beattie had more than her word. She had a trove of documents showing that Horne's staff was working on state time to get their man re-elected, a giant no-no. Horne already was mired in controversy over his 2010 campaign shenanigans, a vehicular hit-and-run, and an extramarital affair with an assistant AG. Beattie's revelation effectively tied an anvil to the AG's political neck, thus ending his career. Beattie suffered for her act of conscience, as Horne and his minions viciously smeared her in retaliation. She lost friends and clients and has turned her back on politics. In our book, though, she deserves a medal for helping to boot a corrupt pol from office. We ain't got no medal, but hopefully this Best Of will do.

Just about every government agency has a public information officer, but most don't do a very good job at actually informing the public. The Arizona Department of Transportation has raised the bar in this category. Before you leave the house, check the ADOT Twitter page (@ArizonaDOT), which constantly has the latest information on the condition of Arizona's highways. They also deliver the information well — the ADOT team has great jokes about its findings on the state's highways, and it personally responds to everyone's specific questions about their trips. Part of the PIO's job also is answering reporters' questions, and we have nothing but positive reviews (so far) about our interactions with this team. Attention, every other government agency: This is how it's done.

While most of the statues on the local TV news broadcasts continue to age, there's a new guy on Channel 3 we like: Brandon Lee. We had an idea that Lee was different from the rest of the squares who have his job, and that was confirmed when we first got a look at Lee in short sleeves — the guy is seriously tatted up. (If he could start doing news broadcasts in short-sleeved shirts, it would be a game-changer.) Outside of his looks, Lee does his job well, which is the most important part. As the job of TV newscaster has become a job of reading a teleprompter like a robot, it's refreshing to see someone who's a bit different.

Every time we cover a protest, there's Leonard Clark. Every time we attend a debate at the Legislature, there's Leonard Clark. Every time we troll the Internet, there's Leonard Clark, posting articles, commenting on long threads, or starting a Facebook group to spread the word about something. Clark is more than a full-time activist fighting the good fight for every lefty and progressive cause under the sun. He's a dedicated citizen and a master of using the democratic system (and social media) to make a point. Not everyone takes the time to attend boring legislative committee meetings and speak out against bills, and many of our right-wing elected reps know him by name. "Good to see you, Leonard," they chide. But their dismissal doesn't faze him, in fact, it motivates him. This man feeds off of justice and doing what's right. Living in a state that overwhelmingly disagrees with almost everything you stand for is tough, so to Clark we say, "Kudos, man! Keep up the good work!"

Talking about something other than politics in the household of Linda and John Kavanagh must be next to impossible. Having moved to Arizona in 1993 from the East Coast, the popular couple from Fountain Hills — now married for about 40 years — had a little experience in government before rising to respectable offices in their new home state. He's a former Lafayette, New Jersey, town councilman, and she was on Lafayette's planning board and the board of directors of their children's private school. John Kavanagh, a retired Port Authority of New York and New Jersey police detective with more than 20 years on the force, was first elected to the State Legislature's Eighth District in 2007 as a Representative. He's a hardcore conservative whose antics occasionally annoy even other Republicans, including igniting a national firestorm in 2013 with a proposed law that would have made it a crime for a transgender person to use a bathroom not designated for the sex listed on the person's birth certificate. He was elected to the State Senate's District 23 in November. Linda Kavanagh, who bills herself as pro-business and a tireless public servant on a plethora of civic organizations, is now serving her second two-year term as mayor. They're putting their synergy together to shape Arizona's future — for better or worse.