Let’s stop pretending we don’t know what people mean when they say “good ol’ boy system.”
Around here, that phrase gets tossed around like cornhole bags at a backyard cookout, casual, familiar, and aimed at the same boards every time. But the truth is, the system people are angry about today has nothing to do with the “good ol’ boys” most of us grew up respecting.
For many of us, a good ol’ boy was the first one you called when you were in a bind. Someone would say, “Call ol’ so-and-so, he’s a good ol’ boy,” and you knew that meant he’d show up, do the work, and give you the shirt off his back. No favors owed. No strings attached. Reputation mattered because you had to live with it.
That version is gone.
What’s taken its place over the last fifteen to twenty years isn’t about character, it’s about control. It’s about a small, familiar circle deciding who gets elevated, who gets protected, and who gets written off. It’s about succession being managed instead of earned.
This isn’t speculation. The State Commission on Judicial Conduct issued a public admonishment for election interference that named the people involved. That's a public record. It included the recently retired District Judge, the retired county DA, the previous County Judge, and the current County Judge. Yet here we are again, watching the same former officials blanket the county with handwritten postcards, nudging voters toward “their” candidate, as if judicial independence ends at retirement.
And look at what has followed since this group tightened its grip.
We overspent on the courthouse by millions. The Justice Center is already about ten million dollars over projections. A BESS facility moved in with open arms. And instead of transparency and cooperation, we’re witnessing the public unraveling of county government. The county judge has said, on the record, in open court, and in his own writings, that he does not trust the commissioners. He has called them liars after they presented documentation that is already public record.
And whether you like the commissioners or not, they were elected by the people in their precinct. And that group that wants to maintain control has repeatedly, on public record, said that voters in this county aren’t smart enough to know who to vote for, the commissioners are uneducated, and we only vote for our friends and families.
That isn’t leadership. That’s institutional breakdown.
Then there’s the question of accountability. When the BESS owners sued, the county was sued for millions of dollars, and that lawsuit named the entire commissioners court. Responsibility, at least in civil court, was collective. Yet criminal indictments on the courthouse restoration targeted only a few individuals, while others who held authority during the actual construction period faced no such scrutiny. That selective focus alone should give taxpayers pause.
But the moment that should have stopped every reasonable person cold came during the courthouse indictments. One commissioner, a 33-year-old at the time and a father of three young children, was given a bond condition that would have barred him from contact with minor children for months. Thankfully, a Justice of the Peace refused to allow judicial power to be used that way and removed it.
Let that sink in.
A non-standard bond condition, unrelated to the charges, applied to one person alone, and later stripped out by a judge. That wasn’t justice. That was power testing how far it could go. When bond conditions are untethered from evidence and applied selectively, they stop being about public safety and start looking punitive.
All of the courthouse indictments were later dismissed by an outside DA for lack of evidence. Every one of them. Yet those dismissed charges continue to be dragged out publicly as character attacks, long after the courts said there was nothing there.
Now here’s the part that matters just as much.
This county does not get better by pitting “old families” against “new folks,” or tradition against change. We need both. We need the wisdom of people who’ve been here long enough to know what works, and the fresh eyes of people willing to ask why things are done the way they are. Progress doesn’t come from bulldozing tradition, and stability doesn’t come from shutting out new voices. We also don’t need a group of people with agendas pitting us against each other.
If we want this county to thrive, the answer isn’t choosing sides, it’s merging them. That means longtime residents being open to change, and newer residents respecting the history that shaped this place. It means leadership that listens instead of controls, explains instead of accuses, and invites participation instead of managing outcomes.
That kind of county can’t be built by a closed loop.
It’s built when voters demand better.
“You cannot be a leader, and ask other people to follow you, unless you know how to follow, too.” -- Sam Rayburn
