Monday, Oct. 14, 2024, I found myself navigating what I can only describe as a lesson in bureaucratic futility at the County Council meeting, and I’m still trying to figure out if I was attending a government function or an episode of “Whose Rules Are These Anyway?”
My mission was simple: I wanted to discuss the current state of the county’s emergency preparedness plan. With Hurricane Helene knocking down doors a few weeks ago and the crisp autumn air whispering “ice season,” it seemed like a perfectly reasonable time to ensure the county was, you know, prepared. So, I arrived at 5:35 pm sharp—yes, I was early—to sign up for the coveted three-minute public speaking section.
Enter Councilman Roseborough, who swiftly informed me that the precious three minutes of public input had to be related to agenda items. Fair enough, right? Well, the closest thing on the agenda related to emergencies was Tim Martin’s presentation on new EMS equipment. In hindsight, maybe I could’ve tied my question about our preparedness plan to that, but hey, I was trying to follow the rules. How silly of me.
I decided to not sign the list and instead follow proper procedure by seeking the steps to get my concerns on a future agenda. That is, until I sat through Mr. Smith’s presentation—where he promptly veered from showcasing new equipment to discussing EMS response times and other statistics. And wouldn’t you know it? His data was directly related to my question! I thought, “Here’s my chance!” So, I passed a polite note to the Clerk of Council, Dr. Roberts, requesting that I be allowed to speak after all, since relevant information was now being discussed.
Now, I don’t want to exaggerate, but the look Mr. Doug Pauley, our Chair, gave my note when he received it could only be described as a cross between disgust, confusion, and/or possibly some digestive discomfort. He glanced at it, flipped it over like a bad script, and proceeded with the meeting as if my note were invisible. I sat there, watching speaker after speaker, searching for some acknowledgment, even a thumbs-up or a head nod from the Chair. Instead, I felt my First Amendment rights being stripped from me, one glance at the clock at a time.
Things hit a fever pitch when Ms. Carrao decided to start referencing the STEM school—which, by the way, was on the agenda but that presentation had been canceled! She went over her time limit, breaking the rules by 10 seconds, yet our Chair, Mr. Pauley allowed her to continue. The same man who couldn’t spare three minutes for a genuine concern about the safety of 20,000 citizens of this county!
And then—oh, the irony!—as the meeting carried on, council members started discussing Hurricane Helene and the county’s response. It was as if the universe wanted me to speak! My lovely Councilwoman Peggy Swearingen finally asked the million-dollar question: “Do we have an emergency preparedness plan?” County Administrator Clay Killian responded, “Yes, we do have an EMP. It probably needs…I don’t know the last time it was updated, but probably wasn’t that long ago. Because EMD requires that you do it so often.”
At the end of the meeting, I finally confronted Mr. Pauley and asked why he had ignored my request. His response? “If I let you speak, I have to let everyone speak.” Pardon me, Mr. Chair? First, I am not everyone. I am Brandon S. Henderson, and you should let people speak! It’s kinda our right to do so don’t you think? I think it’s high time we had a conversation about your rules. Nowhere in the agenda’s rules section does it say public comments must be related to agenda items, but in section 13 of the bylaws it does mention a second public comment period that, conveniently, has been removed because—get this—some citizens apparently couldn’t behave themselves in the past. Instead of addressing their conduct like any functioning society would (i.e. LOCK THEM UP!), we now restrict the speech of everyone else in the county!
I’m not asking for much, as I will be heard one way or another.