How is it that a place with so few people can generate so much news?
When activists demanded cuts to police budgets in the wake of George Floyd’s 2020 death at the hands of Minneapolis police, Texas lawmakers reacted swiftly, passing a law financially penalizing municipalities that reduce their law enforcement spending.
“Texas remains a law-and-order state,” Gov. Greg Abbott said then. “These new rules will prevent cities from making reckless and downright dangerous decisions to defund the police.”
The 2021 law applied only to large, typically left-leaning metropolitan centers that saw the loudest anti-police protests. No one could have foreseen that the state’s most politically charged police-defunding battle would actually be waged in deep-red Texas, in the country’s least-populated county.
Two weeks ago, commissioners in Loving County — pop. 75, more or less — approved a 2025 budget eviscerating local law enforcement. On January 1, Sheriff Chris Busse’s salary will be slashed in half, making his paycheck smaller than those of the part-time county commissioners’. The commissioners also eliminated two of six deputy positions, and zeroed-out salaries for two support clerks.
The five-member Commissioners Court next took its budget knife to the county’s sole elected constable. Brandon Jones’ 2025 salary was hacked from $126,000, the standard for all full-time elected Loving County officials, to just $30,000 — the federal poverty level for a family of four, a statistic of particular concern as the constable’s wife also holds one of the eliminated clerk jobs.
The Texas Municipal Police Association has protested the deep cuts, vowing to take the dispute to Austin when state lawmakers convene early next year. What’s happened in Loving County — sudden and drastic reductions in law enforcement spending because of apparent political differences – “is the definition of defunding,” said the association’s Tyler Owen.
The cuts definitely weren’t about money. Situated in the heart of the petro-soaked Permian Basin, Loving County is one of the richest jurisdictions in the state. Engorged by oil and gas taxes, its budget has more than tripled since 2022. In fact, most employees will see a raise next year.
Nor was the defunding for a lack of work. About 1,500 oil field workers temporarily live in the county on the New Mexico border, and police warn about drug trafficking and thefts. The endless stream of heavy equipment has made local roads among the most dangerous in the country. Loving County’s six sheriff’s deputies logged more than 2,700 hours of overtime last year, Busse said.
In an interview, the county’s top official, Judge Skeet Jones, said draining the sheriff’s budget is simple to explain: “Five words — bad behavior and poor performance.”
And what of the constable, who also happens to be Judge Jones’ nephew? “Same five words.”
Not everyone is buying the terse explanation. Loving County’s tiny population means most positions of power are held by people linked by blood, marriage or an alliance in the latest simmering feud. Politics are almost always personal, and vice versa.
[…]
No one is keeping track, but Loving County almost certainly has one of the higher intra-government squabbles-per-capita ratios in Texas, if not the country.
In the past few years alone:
- The local appraisal district sued the county commission.
- The justice of the peace jailed a county commissioner, who filed a federal lawsuit in response.
- The district clerk was the subject of a whistleblower lawsuit.
- Judge Jones was charged with cattle rustling, along with two others, who subsequently ran for commissioner and sheriff.
- The county commissioners court sued the sheriff and prohibited him from accessing government security cameras.
- Five election lawsuits have been filed and appealed; three are on the way to the Texas Supreme Court, two years after the vote.
For a community of some six dozen residents, “We’ve had a lot of political fighting going on,” acknowledged County Attorney Steve Simonsen. “That’s the simplest way to put it.”
You can say that again. I’ve blogged about Loving County’s shenanigans before, and we’ll just add this to the collection. I suppose the Lege could expand their “you can only spend more on the cops” law in response to this, which would make a bad law worse, but maybe they won’t care enough to bother. Whatever the case, read the rest. It’s as bonkers as ever. No one county delivers as much content on a per capita basis as Loving.