The Mozu Story

Behavioral health is the department that keeps getting harder to staff. Not because of patient volume, because of what happens after every session. The notes, the prior auths, the coding reviews. Work that follows clinicians home, that chips away at the reason they went into psychiatry in the first place.

Every other department has been transformed by clinical decision support, structured protocols, and data infrastructure. Behavioral health is still running on clinician heroics and administrative workarounds, and you're losing people because of it.

Why I built this

I grew up watching a Kurosawa film about a physician who believed that human connection was the most powerful medicine. I never forgot it.

I went on to practice emergency medicine across Northern California, including in a leadership role at one of the region's leading community EDs, with significant time in psychiatric emergency settings. I saw patients in crisis every day. And I kept seeing the same ones return, because the outpatient system around them wasn't holding.

What I noticed was this: the most beautiful clinical work I ever witnessed was in psychiatry. Not despite the absence of procedures or imaging or labs, but because of it. There is nothing between the clinician and the patient except presence, language, and time. I watched psychiatry consultants walk into a room and come out with a full picture of a person that we in the ED never could: the history, the context, the nuance built over months of sessions.

A psychiatrist friend I deeply respect once told me about a patient he treated for years. She had killed her abuser, struggled with addiction, and sat in silence through their first sessions. He said he couldn't find the words. But she opened up, little by little. She fully recovered. She now works in the psychiatric unit of the same system that once incarcerated her.

That story has stayed with me. Not just because of her resilience, but because of what it takes to do that work, and what gets taken from the people who do it. That same psychiatrist spent an entire weekend catching up on 150 notes. And insurance companies denied his claims because his notes were slow and sometimes incomplete. The clinician capable of that kind of healing, penalized by the infrastructure meant to support him.

As an emergency physician, I was trained to fix things fast. I wanted to fix the problem I saw here: the clinician capable of that kind of healing, buried in paperwork, with no infrastructure in their corner.

I co-founded Mozu because I couldn't find a platform built for this. Not a generic AI scribe. Something purpose-built for the complexity of outpatient behavioral health: psychiatric coding, audit readiness, prior auth burden, that addressed documentation quality before it became a compliance or retention problem.

What we build

Mozu is an ambient AI documentation and revenue cycle platform purpose-built for outpatient behavioral health. It captures the clinical encounter in real time, generates structured, compliant notes, and feeds clean data into the revenue cycle, reducing clinician documentation burden, improving coding accuracy, and giving your behavioral health staff back the capacity to see more patients and stay in practice longer.

The name comes from the Japanese word for the Bull-headed Shrike, a bird known for its hundred voices, its ability to capture and reflect the full complexity of what it hears. In behavioral health, every patient carries a different voice. We built Mozu to capture all of them.