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Q&A2026

Response to Richard M. Potter Jr., Talbot County Branch NAACP

One thing about where I'm coming from, because it shapes every answer below. I spent 32 years in the Foreign Service, and a substantial part of that work was human rights — pressing foreign governments on minority rights, on police conduct, on whether elections were honest, on whether people could criticize their government without paying for it. I did that in places where the government's standard reply was that I was interfering, or that I was distracted by symbolism while ignoring the "real" problems of ordinary people.

I learned two things from that. The first is that "distraction" is what officials call a grievance when they would rather not answer it. The second is that the argument only ever ran one direction — I was asking other countries to meet a standard, and I was always aware that the U.S. was mixed and imperfect, often fatally so, and that my hosts knew it. I always knew, however, that better was possible and achievable, and I would acknowledge my country's shortcomings and deficiencies with my interlocutors and note that regardless my country was committed to doing better. I came home to Talbot County unwilling to hold this county to a lower standard than the one I spent three decades asking of others. I resigned my U.S. Foreign Service commission, in part, when it was apparent that human rights was no longer a priority for my country, and indeed something that the current Administration was prepared to work against and undo. That is a large part of why I'm running – to build the democracy, respect for human or civil rights, and rule of law that I advocated for over three decades, but to do so at home.

Two disclosures up front. I currently serve on the Talbot County Police Accountability Board, representing St. Michaels, so on the fourth question I am describing work I have been part of — limited to what is in our public annual report. I also serve on the board of the Chesapeake Multicultural Resource Center in Easton.

1. Distinguishing legitimate local civil-rights issues from national culture-war distractions

I use three tests, in order.

Is the county actually the decision-maker? If the County Council has no authority over it, a resolution about it is a press release, not governance.

Is there a documented local record? Names, numbers, complaints, minutes, budget lines — evidence about Talbot County residents. A national talking point arriving here with no local record attached is the definition of an import.

Would county government behave differently toward a resident afterward? Would someone get a permit faster, be treated differently in a traffic stop, be able to speak at a meeting, get hired, get a contract, get the sewer line? If nothing changes in how the county treats a person, it wasn't about the person.

Applied honestly, those tests cut in both directions, and I want to be clear that they do.

The removal of DEI language from the county employee handbook fails all three. It was driven by a national argument, no county employee's actual experience of discrimination was documented before or after, nothing about how the county treats its workforce changed — and it nearly cost the county $46.8 million in federal airport funding. That is a culture-war import with a real local price tag and no local benefit.

The Talbot Boys passes all three, and I say so plainly because I think the "it's all culture war" dodge fails there and people should be told which side of that line I'm on. It was county property, on the county courthouse lawn, decided by the county — and it was the county's own statement about whom its government belonged to. That is a jurisdiction question, a documented-record question, and a how-does-government-treat-you question at once. Removal was the right decision.

The same tests are why the current voter ID proposal in Easton reads to me as an import, and why I would treat questions about who sits on county boards, who gets county contracts, how public comment is run, and how residents are policed as core local business — not as optional or symbolic.

2. Voter ID in Easton

I oppose it, and I'd rather say why than say it carefully.

Councilmember Rankin raised the idea at a town workshop this month, in the course of updating the town's election code, and he stated that he is not aware of any instance or claim of voter fraud in the town. That is the entire argument against it, made by its own sponsor. You do not add a barrier to voting to solve a problem no one can document. Every added requirement falls hardest on the people with the least documentation, the least transportation, and the least slack in their day.

I'd add something from the day job. I observed and reported on elections in countries where ID requirements were the preferred instrument of governments that wanted an election that looked legitimate with a smaller electorate voting in it. The requirement is never announced as exclusion. It is always announced as reasonableness. I have watched that mechanism work often enough that I don't extend it the benefit of the doubt.

There is also a consistency point I'd hold myself to. I have publicly defended the integrity of Talbot County's election administration against fraud claims that were never substantiated. I cannot defend the Board of Elections from an accusation and then endorse a remedy for it.

I should be straight about my standing here: I am running for County Council, not the Easton Town Council. I would have no vote on this. What I can do is say where I stand before it's decided rather than after, which is what I'm doing. If Easton wants to modernize its election code, the reforms worth its time run the other way — access, hours, drop boxes, and materials in Spanish and other languages.

3. Meaningful input for Black residents and other underrepresented communities

"Meaningful" is the load-bearing word here. Consultation that cannot change the outcome is theater, and people can tell the difference immediately — usually faster than the official running the meeting can. The distinction I'd apply is whether the input arrives before the recommendation is drafted or after it's on the agenda.

Appointments. The Council's most under-used real power is filling boards and commissions — Planning, Board of Appeals, Ethics, Economic Development, the Police Accountability Board, comprehensive plan committees. These are where most decisions are actually shaped. I would publish every vacancy with its term and deadline, recruit actively through the NAACP, ChesMRC, Building African American Minds, the churches, and the trades — and publish an annual accounting of how many people applied, from where, and who was appointed. That is a number you can hold me to. If such openings are offered, volunteers must step forward to grab them.

Time and place. A meeting held at the courthouse on a weekday morning has already selected its audience. I'd commit to a set number of evening meetings each year held outside Easton's center — including in Tilghman, Trappe, and the historically Black communities in the county — and held on the decisions that matter, the budget and the comprehensive plan, not the ceremonial ones.

Pre-decision consultation on the record. For any major land use, budget, or public safety item, the staff record should show who was consulted before the recommendation was written.

Answer back. The single strongest signal that someone was heard is a written response saying what was done with what they said, including "we're not doing it, and here's why." I would answer substantive public comment, publicly whether orally or in writing.

EngageTalbot is a genuinely useful tool, but online-only input skews toward people who are already engaged and already connected. It should be paired with in-person outreach and translated materials, not treated as a substitute.

A personal note, offered carefully. I'm Hispanic, from a New Mexican family that has been in what is now the United States since 1598, and I still get treated in some rooms as though I just arrived. My father's first language was Spanish, and he learned English when he attended grade school. I'm part of the fifteenth generation of my family in the United States and English was my first language, though I am also now fluent in Spanish. My grandmother told my father and his brothers and sisters that they had to learn English to get ahead – they all did, but they all too still ran into discrimination and resentment. I am not going to tell you that is the same thing Black families in Talbot County have lived, because it isn't, and I'd rather not insult you by claiming it. What it does mean is that I don't accept "you're not really from here" or "your don't belong" as a legitimate basis for anything, and I notice when it's operating.

4. Racial equity, public trust, and accountability in public safety

I'll start with what I actually know from three years on the Police Accountability Board, limited to our public record.

Our December 2025 annual report to the Council covers four agencies — the Sheriff's Office, Easton, St. Michaels, and Oxford. The Administrative Charging Committee decided fifteen cases in 2025; most ended in exoneration or no action, two produced administrative charges. The finding I'd flag for you is the one the board flagged for the Council: almost no one in this county knows the board exists or what it can do. We formally asked the Council to help fix that. If I'm elected, I'd be on the receiving end of that request, and I'd act on it.

Publish the numbers. I cannot tell you today what racial disparities exist in stops, searches, citations, arrests, or use of force in Talbot County, because the data isn't published in a form that answers the question. I'd push for each agency to report those figures annually, broken out by race and by agency, on a public dashboard. It is cheap, it is not controversial anywhere it's been done, and until it exists every conversation about equity in policing here is conducted in the dark.

Fix complaint intake. Requiring someone to file in person at the agency they're complaining about is a barrier disguised as a procedure. Complaints should be fileable online, in person, and through trusted third parties — the NAACP and ChesMRC among them — in English, Spanish, and Haitian Creole, and the complainant should be told the outcome.

Immigration enforcement and trust. I pushed the board to take up residents' fear of ICE, and it's in the public report: residents raised concerns and asked what role local police play; the agencies reported that Hispanic turnout at public events dropped for fear of enforcement; Easton PD went to Hispanic churches to explain state law and handed out ChesMRC's contact information; and the agencies do not ask about immigration status when responding to a call for assistance. I wanted that documented rather than handled informally, because a community that will not call 911 is a public safety failure — it is not somebody else's immigration debate.

I'd extend it in one direction. On the Eastern Shore the migrant community is not only Hispanic and Latino; it includes Haitian and African families, among others. The outreach and the language access have to reflect that, and at ChesMRC — the only organization of its kind serving this shore — that is the position I take.

I'll say the personal part rather than leave it implied. I am the only non-Venezuelan in my household. My wife and step-daughter had to immigrate and are now proud U.S. citizens. I pulled my parents-in-law out of Venezuela when I was expelled and declared persona non grata by the Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, and they followed me to diplomatic postings in Ottawa and Mexico City. Now out of the U.S. Foreign Service, I needed to secure legal permanent resident status for them. My wife and I sweated many bullets and had numerous sleepless nights over the past 10 months. Blessedly, their legal permanent residency was granted just a couple of days ago. What this administration is doing on immigration is not an abstraction in my house, and I am not going to pretend to a neutrality about it that I don't have.

5. How I'd measure progress

These are the indicators I'd publish a baseline for in year one and report against annually — in public, including when they don't move.

Workforce housing. Not units permitted — units delivered and occupied, at defined affordability bands. The honest test is the share of county employees, TCPS teachers, and sheriff's deputies who actually live in Talbot County. Alongside it: the share of Talbot renters paying more than 30% of income for housing, and the permit timeline for affordable projects compared to market-rate ones.

Schools. Maintenance of effort is a floor, not an achievement. I'd track local per-pupil appropriation against neighboring counties, teacher vacancy and turnover on the first day of each school year, and outcomes disaggregated by race and by school — because a county average conceals exactly what you're asking about. And I'd track whether the schools serving concentrated poverty actually received the community-school resources they're entitled to.

Infrastructure. Not miles paved, but where. I'd publish a map of water, sewer, and broadband investment by census tract and set it beside income and race. Talbot's historically Black communities should appear in the capital plan by name, and if they don't, that's the answer to the question.

Engagement. Applications received for board vacancies and appointments made, by community. Attendance and comment volume at meetings held outside the courthouse. Written responses issued to public comment. And a biennial resident survey on trust in county government, reported broken out by race and by geography.

If those numbers don't move, the effort failed, whatever it felt like from the dais. I'd rather be judged against them than against my intentions.

6. Leadership for people who disagree with me, or who have been unheard

I spent three decades in rooms where no one agreed with me and I had no power to make them. What works is unglamorous: hear the person out completely, tell them plainly where you actually stand, and never pretend to agree in order to end the conversation. People will forgive a no. They do not forgive being managed, and they always know when it's happening.

So the commitment is a real answer, including "no," with the reasoning, in public and on the record. Meetings with people who are never going to vote for me. And not mistaking the loudest room for the county — the people most affected by a decision are usually not the ones who can take a Tuesday morning off to talk about it.

For people who have felt unheard by this county for a long time, I'd say the burden is on the government, not on them. If someone has been told no for thirty years, one listening session doesn't repair that and shouldn't be expected to. What repairs it is doing one concrete thing they asked for and then coming back. That is slower and less satisfying than a statement, and it's the only thing I've seen work.

I'd add the honest caveat: I'm a first-time candidate with no record of local elected office. You have every reason to discount what I say I'll do. What I'd offer instead is how I've behaved where I have served — on the Police Accountability Board and at ChesMRC — and the specific numbers in section five, which you can hold against me.