What changed wasn’t a single vote or disagreement. It was how people were treated. And, when the question of Ag, over 65, and especially veteran exemptions were called into question by the sitting judge, Newt Cunningham.

I began attending Commissioners Court meetings expecting discussion, disagreement, and debate. That’s normal. What I did not expect was to see citizens talked down to, microphones cut, questions dismissed, and decorum enforced selectively depending on who was speaking. I watched credentials, like AV ratings,  get used as a shield instead of answers, and tone matter more than substance.

That’s when I realized this wasn’t about policy. It was about posture.

Some people like to joke that the judge “lives rent free in my head.” I suppose that’s one way to look at it. But the truth is simpler: it isn’t a person taking up space, it’s a style of leadership that does. When authority is exercised in a way that shuts people down instead of hearing them out, it sticks with you. Not because you’re obsessed, but because you’re paying attention.  And because in your lifetime, you were taught better.

And just to be clear, if I ever wanted my name in the paper for the reasons citizens are accused of when they speak up, it would involve Tannerite and glitter, not quietly reading minutes, recording meetings, and asking procedural questions in public forum.

The roads in my head were paved long before this moment.

They’re paved with agriculture exemptions that keep land productive instead of paved over. They’re paved with folks not too far from 65 who spent a lifetime paying in before being told they were a burden. They’re paved with veterans who didn’t ask for special treatment, but earned every protection they were promised by simply showing up when it mattered most.

Those roads didn’t appear by accident. They were built through service, contribution, and sacrifice. And when leadership speaks about them as inconveniences or unfair advantages, that’s not something I can unhear.

When a courtroom mindset bleeds into a governing body, the public stops being participants and starts being treated like problems to manage. Commissioners Court is not a criminal court. Citizens and commissioners should not be defendants, constantly. Questions are not disruptions. Respect should not be conditional.

My concerns with the current county judge are not personal. They are procedural. They are about how authority is exercised, how disagreement is handled, and whether transparency is treated as a duty or a nuisance. When officials author narratives about themselves while dismissing documented concerns from others, scrutiny is not hostility. It is a civic responsibility.

I document. I read minutes. I listen to recordings. I compare what is said publicly with what appears in the record. That is not activism. That is participation.

Local government does not fail all at once. It fails when citizens are made to feel small, unwelcome, or unqualified to speak. I refuse to accept that.

So no, no one lives rent free in my head.

But the people who built this county, fed it, defended it, and paid into it for decades absolutely do.

And I intend to keep showing up for them. With Tannerite and glitter as needed.