When Others Looked Away, I Looked Closer
Four Fights. Four Truths. One Record of Accountability.
Because Leadership
Is More Than a Gavel.
I made County government accessible: every meeting streamed, every record opened, every voice heard. Through a pandemic, historic floods, and economic upheaval, I delivered core services, strengthened public safety, modernized 9-1-1, expanded libraries and parks—without raising taxes. That’s not politics. That’s stewardship.
From First in Line
to Last in Court.
The County loaned $3 million against worthless collateral: a leased software license. When the deal was restructured into a stock swap with Ideanomics—an unstable company under federal investigation—I said no. Council voted 11–1. I was the one. But after I read my dissent into the record, the deal was killed. That wasn’t coincidence. That was accountability.
It Wasn’t a Tax Hike.
It Was a Trust Breach.
The administration claimed services would be cut unless property taxes rose 15%. I read the budget. Services were never at risk. Reserves exceeded $42 million. The hike wasn’t about necessity—it was about politics. I voted no. Because raising taxes should never be the first reflex. It must be the last resort.
They Called It Mismanagement.
I Called It 2020.
When the County handed Hersha millions to run the Hope Center, I warned the contract was fatally flawed—no oversight, no safeguards, no accountability. I was silenced. Four years later, the County sued Hersha for the very failures I predicted: flooding, mold, untrained staff, unsafe conditions, and financial mismanagement. They called it mismanagement. I called it in 2020.
The Record Speaks
I read the contracts.
I followed the numbers.
I told the truth.
And I was right.
When others chose politics, I chose facts. And when the facts finally caught up with the headlines, they proved what I said all along.
