‘I never had any personal desire to be a wealthy billionaire living lavishly’
Judy Faulkner built one of America’s most influential healthcare software companies from a basement in Wisconsin. Now, at 82, having done something far rarer than simply becoming a billionaire, she’s decided to give away almost all of her fortune.
As she prepares to step back from Epic Systems, her story isn’t just about a big exit or personal fortune, but about building something solid enough to stand on its own – and knowing when (and how) to let it go.
From an idea that started in a basement to a company worth billions
In the 1970s, long before healthtech was even an established category, Faulkner was working at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, helping develop some of the earliest computerized medical record systems. Hospitals at the time were drowning in paper, errors were common, and software – when it existed – was unreliable.
Faulkner, however, wasn’t really chasing disruption. She was trying to solve a practical problem when it came to figuring out how to make technology useful to clinicians under real-world pressure.
Her early collaboration with Warner Slack, a physician deeply invested in doctor-patient communication, grounded her work in the daily realities of healthcare rather than abstract tech theory.
In 1979, she started Epic with $70,000, a handful of employees, and a conviction that would define the company for decades. But while most founders in the tech space move on to seek venture capital and rapid expansion, Faulkner rejected outside funding entirely.
She worried that shareholders would eventually push the company to optimize for growth instead of reliability, which she saw as an unacceptable tradeoff in medicine.
That decision locked Epic onto a slower, riskier path – one where success depended on trust earned hospital by hospital, one day at a time.
The kind of legacy that takes time
Perhaps the most unexpected part of the story, though, is where all of this happened. Faulkner built a world-class technology company not in Silicon Valley, but in Wisconsin – drawing thousands of skilled workers by investing in culture, purpose, and long-term stability instead of hype.
And the culture Faulkner cultivated is part of its remarkable growth. Today, the Wisconsin-based company employs about 14,000 people on a uniquely themed 1,670-acre campus – a setting many describe as a tech-themed fantasy world built around collaboration and creativity.
Internally, Faulkner’s leadership style blends an insistence on technical excellence with strong, personal customer and employee relationships.
Executives frequently recount Faulkner’s accessibility, whether that be answering emails within hours or conducting hour-plus presentations to persuade hospital leaders about the company’s value. The company’s all-staff monthly meetings, known as “work church,” reinforce a shared culture centered on detail, trust, and continuous learning.
Yet beneath the whimsy also lies a rigorous work environment marked by intense customer immersion during implementations, where Epic assigns “BFFs” (best friends forever) to hospital systems to provide on-site, 24/7 support.
Faulkner’s decision to avoid venture capital and public markets preserved near-absolute control, enabling Epic to prioritize long-term product integrity over quarterly earnings pressures. And the company’s position – serving nearly half of all US acute care hospitals and tens of thousands of clinics – is a testament to this approach.
The success, however, did not come with challenges. Epic has faced lawsuits accusing it of anticompetitive behavior and maintaining territorial control over patient data, sparking scrutiny in a sector increasingly demanding interoperability.
Letting go, by design
Overall, Judy Faulkner’s most striking decision isn’t how she built Epic, but how she’s stepping away from it. Rather than selling the company or handing control over to Wall Street, she set up a system meant to protect Epic’s independence long after she’s gone.
Ownership will move into a trust run by family members and longtime employees, with a separate oversight group of healthcare leaders tasked with making sure the company stays private and true to its original mission.
That same long-term thinking shapes what Faulkner is doing with her wealth. At 82, with Epic’s future mapped out, she plans to give away 99% of her fortune to charity through The Giving Pledge, focusing on her own foundation, Roots & Wings.
And it’s not a dramatic change of heart, either. It’s the natural extension of a career built on restraint. For Faulkner, success was never about how much she could keep, but about what her work could support once she no longer needed to be in charge.
“Many years ago I asked my young children what two things they needed from their parents,” Faulkner wrote in her pledge letter.
“They said ‘food and money.’ I told them ‘roots and wings.’ My goal in pledging 99% of my assets to philanthropy is to help others with roots – food, warmth, shelter, healthcare, education – so they too can have wings.
At the end of the day, Faulkner’s career suggests that the most meaningful achievements aren’t always the loudest ones. By prioritizing durability over speed and responsibility over reward, she shows how influence can compound quietly. And continue long after a founder leaves the stage.
