There’s a saying we used to have in the Marines: “You don’t really know someone until you see how they take a punch.” And I’ve taken more than a few in my time—both with fists and with words. I don’t say that to paint myself as a hero or some kind of martyr. I say it to help you understand the spirit behind this newspaper, and behind the man writing this letter.
As a former U.S. Marine, I speak about that chapter of my life from time to time—not because I wear it like a badge, but because it shaped the man I am. The Corps taught me how to keep my emotions in check, to think logically under pressure, and to lead with discipline and purpose. It taught me how to stand when others fold, and how to separate my personal feelings from my professional responsibilities. That discipline is why I’ve been able to run this newspaper with integrity—even while under fire.
And make no mistake—I’ve been under fire.
What’s been happening over the past year isn’t just petty politics or social media sniping. It’s a coordinated attempt to silence a voice that speaks uncomfortable truths. The attacks on my name, my paper, and my character have not stopped—not for a single week. I’ve been called “fake news” by people who couldn’t tell you what fact-checking even is. I’ve been lied about, smeared, and targeted by those with something to hide. And when the smear campaigns didn’t work, they escalated. I was evicted from a home I paid for on time, every month, for over eight years—without a single late payment. The judge himself said on the record, “This feels like a setup.” And he was right.
These are the punches I’ve taken—not for personal gain, not because I enjoy it—but because this community deserves a newspaper that doesn’t flinch in the face of power. I never asked for special treatment. I never played the victim. I never complained that life was unfair. I’ve stood my ground quietly and kept doing the job because it needed to be done. And I did it for free—never asking a dime from the community I serve.
The people attacking this newspaper—and let’s be honest, me personally—are not doing so because we’ve lied. They’re doing it because we’ve told the truth. The kind of truth that makes people squirm. The kind of truth that threatens corrupt comfort. And they will stop at nothing to keep their secrets hidden. That’s what you need to understand when you see their online tantrums or their backroom moves to cut off our resources. It’s not because they’re strong. It’s because they’re afraid.
So, when I talk about taking a punch, I mean standing through all of that and not breaking. I mean refusing to back down, even when you’re outnumbered. I mean protecting this paper—and by extension, you—from being gaslit into submission.
And I ask you now to understand the cost of that kind of resolve. Could most people endure it? Probably not. And I don’t say that as a boast. I say it because we’re in a time where truth-tellers are few and far between, and they need backup—not pity, not praise—but awareness. If you’ve appreciated what you’ve read in the Tribune over the last year, if it’s opened your eyes to things you didn’t know or couldn’t find anywhere else, then know this: every story came at a price. And I paid it willingly.
This letter isn’t a call for sympathy. It’s a call for solidarity. Because while I’m willing to take these hits for the team, the truth is—I shouldn’t have to do it alone. If we want this community to unite and rebuild on real accountability, we need to stand shoulder to shoulder. We need to face the bullies and say: we won’t be silenced. We need to be willing, as a community, to take a punch now and then for the things that matter.
And if we do? We win. Every time.