📰 THE DUMP — September 26, 2025

Your weekly look at the weird, the wild and Williamson County

Sep 26, 2025

Welcome back, neighbors, to this week’s edition of The Dump — your weekly look at the weird, the wild and Williamson County.

This week, one ex-Speaker is trading the gavel for stripes, Nolensville wants retail but can’t unclog its sewers, and Skrmetti’s picking a fight with Ticketmaster. Fairview just crowned its new clean-up man, and topping it all off is a greasy little house party that you might want to miss.

Let’s dump it out.

⚖️ SENTENCED, PARDONED, OR STILL PAYING?
The gavel has finally come down on the Casada–Cothren caper. Last week, Cade Cothren picked up 2½ years in prison, a $25,000 fine, and a year of supervised release. This week, his old boss — former House Speaker Glen Casada — got the upgrade: three years in federal prison, a $30,000 fine, and a bench-side tongue-lashing from Judge Eli Richardson that you just don’t walk away from. “No doubt, this was crummy and way below the expectations of a public official,” the judge said — sealing a political tombstone.

So, the curtain falls. Casada’s putting on the striped uniform; Cothren, meanwhile, signaled he’s seeking a presidential pardon — swapping his profile photo to a shot of himself under Trump’s White House portrait. (Good luck with that.)

Done and dusted, right?

Not quite. Because while Casada and Cothren were being sentenced, Rep. Todd Warner has been quietly cutting $1,000 checks every month to Cothren’s girlfriend for… wait for it… “advertising.” And this isn’t some old ledger entry — it’s right there in his current campaign disclosures.

Remember, Warner’s house and office were already raided by the FBI as part of the same corruption probe. Investigators testified that Cothren liked to run money through girlfriends and friendly faces dressed up as “vendors.” And now Warner’s campaign just happens to be dropping a neat $1K a month into the girlfriend’s pocket? (Mmmhmm…)

This bad movie has still yet to roll credits. Expect more to this saga.

WW BOTTOM LINE
Casada’s headed for the big house, Cothren’s on his knees for a pardon, and Warner’s still cutting checks. Three years later, the only question left is the same one we started with: what on earth was anyone paying for?

🚰 CART BEFORE THE FLUSH
On Monday, the Nolensville Board of Commissioners brought in Williamson, Inc. to talk about retail recruitment — you know, how to land the shiny stores and restaurants every small town dreams about. The presentation was polished: Williamson, Inc. explained their mission, successes in office recruitment, and pipeline work with schools. All very impressive. But here’s the rub: in so many words, they admitted that retail happens when it wants to happen — it follows rooftops and incomes, nothing else. Makes sense.

Then, the elephant in the room: sewer. “What if there’s a moratorium?” Nathan Zipper, the economic development officer, was candid: “[Developers] want to see a path forward to the real estate… it has to be crystal clear when they can get in.” Translation: if your pipes don’t work, your pitch doesn’t either.

And that developer feedback? Brutal. A Franklin developer flat out said: “If I’m ready to go and you’ve got a moratorium, I’m looking at three years. I’ve skipped you and gone somewhere else.” There it is — a neon “Closed for Plumbing” sign across Nolensville’s growth dreams.

But because local government can’t resist a shiny gadget, the board toyed with Tennessee’s brand-new Infrastructure Development District — basically developer fantasy football with taxpayer jerseys. The pitch: builders use the town’s bonding power to front the cash for streets, sidewalks, and sewers, then homeowners pay it back with a “special assessment” that lingers for 30 years. So, for some new homeowners that could mean two tax rates in one town. And when you flip it on, it doesn’t flip off.

Nobody slammed the door on the idea, but nobody seemed eager to make Nolensville the guinea pig either. In the end, Mayor Halie Gallik noted: “I’m not sure that we are large enough to be wading into that at this point.” Indeed.

WW BOTTOM LINE
Nolensville wants retail, and Williamson, Inc. did their best to play cheerleader — but without utility capacity and space you can open tomorrow, it’s circling the drain. Until the taps turn back on, retail recruiting is like selling condos on the moon: slick brochures, no atmosphere, and absolutely no flush.

🎟️ SCRAM, SCALPERS: SKRMETTI JOINS THE FIGHT AGAINST TICKETMASTER
Jonathan Skrmetti is suddenly the people’s champ. Tennessee’s Attorney General joined six other states and the FTC in suing Live Nation and Ticketmaster for looking the other way while armies of bots hoarded tickets, then helped resell them for the price of a used Camry. The suit claims Ticketmaster not only ignored the fraud but occasionally assisted scalpers. Imagine a bouncer who not only lets fake IDs through but helpfully drives them to the liquor store.

Skrmetti got lyrical in his press release:
“Tennessee wouldn’t be Tennessee without world-class live music from the mountains to the Mississippi. When consumers line up for a show, they should never have to compete with armies of scalpers scooping up hundreds of tickets at a time.”

But here’s the wrinkle: even if the lawsuit works, don’t expect cheaper tickets. Why? Because Michael Rapino, CEO of Live Nation, says you’re still getting a bargain. Yes, the same guy who is named in this suit and oversees the “convenience fee” equivalent of a mugging told CNBC that concerts are “underpriced” and “underappreciated” compared to sports. He pointed at $5,000 NBA courtside seats and essentially said, Hey, be grateful we only charge $128 to sit behind a pillar at Nissan Stadium.

Rapino insists the average ticket is about $72 (most reports put it closer to $83–$136, depending on venue), and that artists like Beyoncé or Taylor Swift often only pocket 30% after massive production costs. His conclusion? There’s “a lot of runway left” for prices to keep climbing. Translation: even if Skrmetti kills the bots, your bank account is still the opening act.

WW BOTTOM LINE
The lawsuit might move money out of the scalpers’ pockets, but it’s not going back to fans — it’s heading straight into Live Nation’s Beverly Hills coffers. So yes, Skrmetti might save you from buying Taylor Swift tickets off a guy named “Ticketz4U.biz,” but Rapino is still ready to charge you double for the privilege of singing along in the nosebleeds.

🏗️ FAIRVIEW: INNOVATION HYPE, STOP SIGN HAND-OFF, AND A NEW CLEAN-UP MAN
Fairview did its usual opening ritual Thursday night — prayer, pledge, and Mayor Lisa Anderson reminding everyone to “speak loudly into the mic.” Then Williamson County Schools rolled in like they were launching a new iPhone.

Jeremy Qualls, the county’s career-and-tech director, and Chris Schneider, his deputy, pitched the $15.5 million Entrepreneurship & Innovation Campus. Behind the current Franklin High annex, the shiny new building will give kids everything from a mock hotel lobby to Caterpillar engines to aviation simulators. Qualls bragged: “We are the only district in the entire state that used 100 percent of this allocation to build a building.” Translation: while other districts bought Chromebooks, Williamson built Top Gun Academy.

Anderson chimed in with her best Jaws impression: “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Maybe so, once half the county realizes they can graduate with both a diploma and a heavy-equipment license.

Then came traffic talk. Commissioner Wayne Hall raised concerns about speeding at Old Nashville Road and Jones Lane, asking for a stop sign before somebody’s mailbox, or worse, becomes collateral damage. City Attorney Patrick Carter acknowledged the problem but insisted on an engineer’s blessing first. The board punted for 60 days while staff line up a study. Residents said stop — the board replied, “let’s form a committee.”

On development, it was bond bonanza: City Center Phase 2, Bowie Meadows Phase 2, and Highbury Point apartments all cleared. More rooftops, more traffic, more everything.

The most human moment came when the board decided to merge janitorial duty with the crossing-guard job, creating a full-time position. Enter Donald Vise — the guy who waves at every parent and kid during school drop-off, now tasked with mopping up City Hall. Vice Mayor Chris McDonald quipped: “If Mr. Vise brings half the energy to janitorial work that he brings to crossing guard duty, we’re about to have the cleanest building in Fairview.”

It was the one item of the night that didn’t need a bond, a study, or a consultant. Just a guy everybody likes stepping up to help out.

WW BOTTOM LINE
Fairview promised students flight simulators, promised residents a traffic study, and handed City Hall’s mop to the guy who already makes mornings bearable.

Rock on, Donald!

🚽 FINAL FLUSH: GREASE ROOTS AT THE CAMERON HOUSE
Picture this: you’re invited to a cozy little political soirée. A friendly meet-and-greet, the kind where candidates shake your hand, smile for the camera, and ask for your vote. The flyer says come on down to the Cameron house and meet three hopefuls: Gary Humble (senate), Mary Smith (county mayor), and Brian Beathard (state rep). Sounds harmless, right?

Now, the fine print. The “Cameron house” isn’t just any house. It belongs to Donnie Cameron — the infamous developer who carved up half of Spring Hill and paved his way into Williamson County lore. He’s also a convicted felon with a rap sheet that reads like a greatest hits album of bad decisions: money laundering, tax evasion, illegal gambling. Know full well when Cameron is the host for a little grassroots mixer, it’s actually grease-roots — slick with money, power, and promises no one intends to keep.

And what a cast. On one side you’ve got Gary Humble, the far-right’s firebrand, suddenly reinventing himself as an anti-development crusader, which is odd considering the company at this shindig. Forget “property rights” — apparently his new line is “stop development, shut it all down.”

On another side, Mary Smith, the smiling would-be county mayor who, just this year, tried to raid the school budget to pump up the sheriff’s department. She may think staying quiet will carry her over the finish line, but voters haven’t forgotten her priorities.

And then there’s County Commissioner Brian Beathard — who fits in like the odd cousin at Thanksgiving dinner, once the centrist RINO who could peel votes from downtown Democrats, now rumored to be parroting the same “stop development” nonsense as Humble and company.

Three categories of Republicans crammed together in one living room: the hard right, the silent extremist, and the stray who used to lean left. Throw in Cameron’s house of cards and you’ve got the perfect picture of today’s local politics — everyone swearing they hate backroom deals while literally holding court in a back room.

But here’s where it gets sticky. Beathard insists his inclusion on the flyer was a mistake. He never agreed to a meet-and-greet, never approved his name on any invitation, and never planned to attend.

Maybe, Brian. Maybe.

But then why have you been spotted cozying up to State Rep. Jody Barrett, one of the darlings of this same hard-right crowd? Why do the rumor mills hum about you cutting donation checks to Humble’s Tennessee Stands? And just why do people say you’ve been preaching the same anti-development sermon as those of whom you claim no affiliation? You can’t stand shoulder-to-shoulder with these folks in one breath and cry “clerical error” in the next.

And here’s the problem: the flyer’s out. Anybody paying attention to politics in this county has seen it. There’s no sneaking in the Camerons’ back door at this point, not now. So just spell out where you stand.

This is your chance, Brian. Come clean. Tell Williamson County who you are, who you align with, and what you’re running for. Because silence might feel safe, but it’s not strategy. If you think this greasy little episode is just going to blow over, you’re wrong — it won’t. It’s going to stick until you answer it yourself.

Will you?

That’s a wrap on this week’s ride. If you grinned, groaned, or gagged, pass it along. Like a flyer to a bad house party, it only gets better when everyone sees it.

Thanks for reading. We’ll be back next Friday. Same time, same flush.

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Correction: An earlier version included an unsupported claim regarding an allegation against Cameron. It’s been removed.

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