Looking back on 2025, the year began, appropriately enough, with a good deal of swearing. In early January, newly appointed Sheriff John Patrick Dickson took his oath of office, a reminder that local government often runs less on certainty than it does on contingency.
Dickson met the statutory requirements for appointment, though he was not a licensed peace officer, and before the year ended, he withdrew from the 2026 race altogether. That decision ensured Fisher County voters would once again head into a primary season facing a vacancy that never quite feels full.
Instability, it turned out, was not confined to one office, spreading from courthouses to councils and districts.
The Fisher County Commissioners Court spent early 2025 lawyering up over a lingering dispute with former commissioner Preston Martin. Criminal and civil cases brought against Martin in 2024 were dropped for lack of evidence, but the legal aftermath remained. Martin sought reimbursement for his defense costs, a right afforded under state law, only to see the county resist.
That civil case continues, raising uncomfortable questions as Martin simultaneously campaigns for county judge. It was an early example of a theme that repeated throughout the year: issues rarely end when the headlines move on. While politics provided the friction, development supplied the velocity.
Solar farms and data centers dominated conversations across Fisher and Stonewall counties. Indigo Solar and the IREN data center reshaped Fisher County’s economic map, while Stonewall County welcomed a massive ENGIE solar project tied to Meta through a nearly $2 billion power agreement signed before construction ever began.
There were hints of further expansion, additional land discussions, and speculative conversations that never quite materialized. Even so, the message was clear: West Texas land is no longer valued only for what grows on it, but for what can be built across, what blows above it, and extracted from beneath it.
At the municipal level, cities spent 2025 confronting long-delayed realities and preparing for its future.
The City of Rotan moved forward with enforcement of its substandard structure ordinance, demolishing its first severely deteriorated property. It also raised water rates to offset losses tied to aging infrastructure, a decision that drew frustration but reflected unavoidable arithmetic. Boil-water notices persisted throughout the year, and residents will enter 2026 still waiting for relief despite the city finally beginning repairs on all three water towers. Although, by the time the tower project was completed, the city was over-budget and being investigated by the state for the way its council gathered voting consensus.
Aspermont took a different approach, continuing routine inspections and maintenance while celebrating quieter victories, including the launch of a long-awaited city website and the opening of new businesses like Rolling Plains Title. Rotan also welcomed its own bright spot when Ace Hardware finally opened downtown, and Dollar General opened new locations in both Rotan and Roby, proof that progress sometimes arrives without controversy.
Schools, meanwhile, lived through their own cycles of correction and consequence.
Rotan ISD spent much of the early part of the year diagnosing the failure of its 2024 bond, then returned to voters with a narrower proposal. The district won approval for high school improvements while voters rejected additional teacher housing, a split decision that reflected cautious confidence rather than wholesale trust.
The district later lost its superintendent, resetting leadership just as construction planning should have accelerated. And Rotan ISD was not alone, as neighbor and rival, Roby CISD also shuffled in a new administration after a superintendent resignation in early February.
Aspermont ISD closed the books on an old wound when it finally received nearly $200,000 from a 2017 storm insurance claim. Later in the year, trustees approved a second phase of bond-funded construction.
School districts also navigated the early implications of House Bill 1481, which restricts student access to personal electronic devices, and House Bill 8, which will eventually end STAAR testing in favor of more frequent assessments beginning in the 2027–28 school year. However, wording in HB-12 created controversy all its own, some of which will continue into early 2026 — at least locally.
Culture and community offered a bit of reflective contrast.
Rotan’s downtown saw new sculptures from artist Joe Barrington, while murals by Lexi Antonick sparked both admiration and debate, particularly her piece in Snyder that memorialized Charlie Kirk. Meanwhile, the Fisher County Fair and Rodeo made statewide headlines by offering the largest mutton-busting payout in Texas, a reminder that small towns still know how to make big noise the right way.
Behind the scenes, the newspaper itself became part of the story after the closure of the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal printing plant forced the DMC to find a new printer midyear, a logistical challenge that mirrored the broader pressures facing local journalism everywhere. October brought one of the year’s few unifying moments with the passing of former publisher Kim Pease, whose legacy served as a reminder that institutions are shaped as much by people as by policy.
And then there was the jail. By early summer, Fisher County commissioners celebrated a $1.9 million increase in net position, the product of aggressive budget tightening and calculated defunding efforts. By year’s end, the court doubled-down on those efforts, officially decommissioning the 10-year-old, $6.5 million county jail, even as overtime costs soared past $200,000 and SB 22 grant funds were used to purchase new patrol vehicles.
With that December decommissioning, the court confirmed that a small majority of officials can simply override the majority of voters who overwhelmingly supported the jail in 2014 and continue to pay for it in 2026, while the county makes money on the debt taxpayers owe while offering citizens nothing but a facility as empty as the promises they’ve made.
Looking back over the past year, it was about what was quietly decided and what stayed unresolved, those issues pushed into the future for someone else to deal with. If 2025 proved anything, it’s that local government doesn’t need a spectacle to distract the public, it only needs enough people to stop paying attention to keep the wheels greased. It was a year not defined by one vote or one controversy, but by what officials learned they could accomplish when they face no consequences.
Publisher’s Note: The Aug. 14 notice promised “5% COLA” and listed zero dollar figures. §152.013(b) requires the amount. On Sept. 8 commissioners approved $43,824.04. Last year was $31,737. That’s 38.1%. That’s a big gulp of COLA tax payers silently drank and never even noticed what was slipped in or maybe they’re just use to the taste by now.
When asked for a lawful notice before print the reply was “run as is.” In open court, they waved an AG opinion to cut another’s travel expense and skipped the sentence that would’ve checked their own. They had weeks to fix it. They did not.
“Small-town” isn’t a loophole in Texas law.
This has not been forgotten. I’ve just been busy rolling back the rugs and sweeping through decades of dirt so everyone can see it. This citizen has no more patience for political games or the cowardice of Nelsonian blindness. Neither should any of you.