THE DUMMY STRIKES TWICE

DUMMY OF THE WEEK

📍DATELINE BRENTWOOD, TN — THE DUMMY STRIKES TWICE

What day is it? Hump day! Which means it’s time for Dummy of the Week, where we honor the loudest, pettiest, least productive public figures in Middle Tennessee — the kind of folks who mistake obstruction for principle and drama for duty. If you’ve ever hijacked a meeting with a six-minute monologue about bylaws, you just might be our next honoree.

This week’s not just a repeat offender — he’s a pioneer.

Commissioner Chris Richards of District 7, Brentwood’s own procedural pied piper, returns to the porcelain podium for his second crown. It takes a special kind of public servant to waste this much time, sow this much confusion, and still duck responsibility with a straight face.

If you thought the cease-and-desist letters, open records tantrums, or stop-loss insurance meltdowns were the peak of his powers — buckle up. Because at the June 20th seven-hour budget session, Chris gave us the full buffet.

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And yes, friends, he's still talking about stop-loss.

At Friday’s budget slog, Commissioner Richards once again warned that the county was flirting with legal disaster — this time over the stop-loss insurance contract. Because it was filed late, Richards claimed it hadn’t been properly reviewed by the Budget Committee and should’ve never reached the full commission.

“These patterns of procedural breakdown exposes to audit risks,”
he said, accusing staff of burying the RFP like it’s the Epstein list.

Then came the thunder:

“The companies that were denied the opportunity to bid on this can sue the county because we haven't followed the proper bid procedures.”

But here’s the problem: there’s no requirement — in policy, practice, or bylaws — that late-filed contracts must be rerouted through committee. The rules were followed. The contract was flagged. Legal reviewed it. The commission had authority. They voted.

The only thing “unorthodox” here is Richards rewriting procedure to fit a personal grievance.

And the single bid? That’s not scandal — it’s standard. Stop-loss insurance is a narrow market. One response isn’t proof of sabotage — it’s supply and demand.

So no, Chris — the county didn’t commit malpractice. No steps were skipped, and being late doesn’t mean being illegal.
You weren’t exposing a scandal — only your own ignorance.

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Then came the raises.

The Commission approved raises for the Sheriff’s Department — a move Richards championed. Fair enough.

But when a motion came to extend similar raises to all other non-education county employees — dispatchers, sanitation workers, admin staff — Richards slammed the brakes.

“How do we plan on paying for that?” he asked.

Indeed.

Until five minutes later — when a property tax hike was proposed to fund the raises anyway.

“Everybody can go up to the 75th percentile,” staff offered, suggesting a one-cent increase.

Richards was asked if he had any comment.

“No thank you.”

And that was that.

This leaves one to wonder: which is it, Chris? Tighten the belt or open the vault? Because you can’t do both.

The truth is: Richards doesn’t want to cut spending.
He just wants to cut everything except the parts he champions.

Public safety? Top priority.
Everyone else? Optional.

He made it clear:

“Police are the most important, along with the fire department — and that should go before anything else, including things like parks and rec. And for that matter, the school system.”

Wrong.

You don’t get to stack rank civilization, Commissioner.

We don’t crown public safety and then treat everything else — education, parks, infrastructure, community services — like it’s optional flair. A functioning county isn’t a single-issue fiefdom. It’s a system. And the second you start pulling pieces out, the whole thing begins to rot.

You want lower crime? Start with better schools.
You want safer neighborhoods? Invest in parks, afterschool programs, and stable families.
You want a county that runs well? Fund the people who keep it running — not just the ones who respond when it breaks.

This isn't about “cutting the fat.” It’s about starving the muscle. And pretending that teachers, dispatchers, rec center staff, and public works crews are somehow less vital just proves you don’t understand how a community stays healthy.

You don’t win safety by gutting education.
You don’t build pride by slashing recreation.
You don’t fix dysfunction by throwing the entire budget into a patrol car and calling it a day.

It’s not fiscal responsibility — it’s a slow-motion collapse.

So no, we’re not playing Department Hunger Games. We’re not robbing the general fund to bankroll your pet priorities while pretending the rest of the county can just volunteer their way to survival.

A strong, safe, thriving community doesn’t come from choosing between schools and sirens.
It comes from leaders who know how to fund both — and don’t pit them against each other just to sound tough.

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And when the time finally came to vote on the full $903 million budget?

Commissioner Richards — after all the delays, contradictions, and lectures — abstained.

Didn’t vote yes.
Didn’t vote no.
Didn’t lead.
Didn’t oppose.

Just slipped out the procedural side door like a man trying to wash his hands without getting them wet.

That wasn’t integrity.
That was insulation — a taxpayer-funded magic trick designed to vanish from a budget you spent seven hours dragging through the mud.

But let’s be honest, Chris — you were in it up to your eyebrows.

You helped derail the stop-loss insurance renewal with confusion and delay — not once, but twice. You pushed for raises in law enforcement, then yanked support when it came time to treat everyone else fairly. You preached about cutting costs — then signed off on bigger checks for the departments you personally favored.

And when it was time to vote? You disappeared.

That’s not courage.

And it sure as hell isn’t why the people of Brentwood sent you there.

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So congratulations, Commissioner Chris Richards.

You are Williamson Wrong’s first-ever two-time Dummy of the Week.

Not for one gaffe — but for a pattern:

• Delay, then deflect.

• Spend, then sermonize.

• Lecture, then vanish.

You’re not representing Brentwood. You’re exhausting it.

A full-time procedural speed bump with a part-time understanding of leadership.

Wear the crown. Again.

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