The Big Lie about Gallatin Term Limits - What Really Happened

When I first heard that Paige Brown could run for another term as Mayor of Gallatin, I was surprised. I thought she was term limited. So I did what any concerned citizen would do: I checked the city’s own Code of Ordinances. Part I, Article III, Section 1 of the Charter of the City of Gallatin clearly states:

“[…] No person elected and qualified to the office of Mayor, District Alderman, or Alderman-at-Large shall be eligible for the succeeding term in the same office if such person has served more than one-half of a four (4) year term and a consecutive complete two (2) four (4) year terms in that particular office. […]”

There it was, in black and white: a clear two-term limit for the mayor’s office, eight years, not twelve.

That discovery sent me down a rabbit hole, and what I found was deeply troubling. Somewhere between the City Council’s vote and the Tennessee General Assembly’s final approval, the term‑limit cap was quietly changed from two terms to three. This happened without public discussion, without genuine council consent, and without informing the voters who overwhelmingly supported the original proposal. What was sold as reform turned out to be a bait‑and‑switch. The real scandal wasn’t just the change, it was the silence that followed.

Gallatin’s term‑limits proposal was supposed to be a win for democracy: a clean, two‑term cap for the mayor and council members. Voters were on board. The City Council passed it 5–2. All that remained was routine approval by the Tennessee General Assembly.

But what happened next was anything but routine. It was a betrayal.

For months, Gallatin officials promoted the proposal as a way to restore trust in city government. The plan was simple: cap the mayor and council at two four‑year terms. It had public support. It had council approval. It had momentum.

But when you look closely at the details and the timing, that’s when things get interesting.

After the State Legislature approved the two‑term cap, the City Attorney brought it back during the August 22, 2017 Council Committee meeting. She updated the Council on the charter changes and advised them, per the State’s recommendation, that the ordinance should go back to the Legislature to specify that the charter changes would be placed on the ballot at the next municipal election in November 2018. She said, “[…] and what I would do is update our ordinance to specify for the legislature that we want it at the municipal election and send it back to them. Nothing else changes.”

Those last three words matter: “nothing else changes.” It was still a two‑term cap, exactly as written in the original ordinance 01704‑4 and passed by the Legislature in July 2017 as Private Chapter Act No. 29.

The next City Council voting session is where things begin to unravel. The first reading occurred on September 5, 2017. During the discussion, Councilman Mayberry was explaining his understanding of the eight‑year limit when he was abruptly interrupted by Councilman Craig Hayes, who insisted the limit was twelve years, a claim immediately echoed by the City Attorney, who said, “Three terms, it’s three terms.”

This is critical: The ordinance still said eight years. Yet Hayes and the City Attorney were publicly speaking as if it were twelve.

At the end of the discussion, Councilwoman Love asked, “We are just voting on the same thing we voted on last time?” Mayor Brown responded, “Yes ma’am.” The City Attorney reiterated that the only reason the ordinance had to go back to the Legislature was to specify the election date, concluding, “[…] otherwise it is exactly the same.”

So which is it? “Exactly the same” or not? And if it was “exactly the same”, why was Hayes talking about twelve years when the ordinance still clearly imposed an eight year limit? Why didn’t Mayor Brown step in to correct Hayes and the City Attorney when they misstated the term limit? That moment wasn’t a harmless oversight, it was a flashing red light. The ordinance still imposed an eight‑year cap, yet two officials were publicly framing it as twelve. And instead of clarifying the record, the mayor stayed silent. Silence in a moment like that shapes the narrative. It influences how other council members understand what they’re voting on. It allows misinformation to harden into “accepted fact.”

That silence becomes even more troubling in light of Mayor Brown’s recent comments about wanting to “control what is said” during council meetings. When a mayor expresses a desire to manage or limit the speech of elected representatives, and then declines to correct a clear misstatement of the law in real time, it raises a deeper question about intent. Was this simply a lapse, or part of a broader pattern of shaping the conversation, steering the narrative, and keeping inconvenient facts from surfacing?

When the person presiding over the meeting allows a false statement about term limits to stand unchallenged, while simultaneously expressing a desire to control council dialogue, it’s no longer just a procedural concern. It becomes a transparency concern. A trust concern. A governance concern. And it forces us to ask whether the public is hearing the full truth, or only the version that benefits those already in power.

Looking even more closely at the ordinance reveals a notable discrepancy between its “Whereas” clauses and the actual amendment language. In the “Whereas” section — the narrative portion, the ordinance background story — the City Council outlines a plan to impose term limits of no more than three consecutive terms. But in the “Be It Ordained” section — the legally binding part — the amendment still contains the correct language establishing a cap of two full consecutive four‑year terms.

Why is there an inconsistency between the stated intent and the enacted language? Who made the change? And why were Mayor Brown, Councilman Hayes, and the City Attorney openly discussing a twelve‑year limit while simultaneously assuring the rest of the Council that the ordinance was unchanged — still a two‑term, eight‑year cap?

The next reading passed with no questions asked, and the ordinance was sent to the Legislature.

At State Legislature, the ordinance went through the normal committee process and was passed as written — with a cap of two consecutive terms — and sent to the floor for final approval.

Then, in a move that stunned even seasoned observers, the ordinance was quietly amended at the last second on the House floor, changing the cap from two terms to three. This amendment was introduced not by a representative from Sumner County, but by one from Henry County.

And here’s the kicker: Gallatin’s City Council never discussed or approved this change. Most of them were likely still under the impression that the ordinance imposed a two‑term cap. There was no public debate on the Hill. No transparency. Just a quiet rewrite that fundamentally altered the spirit of the reform.

This wasn’t a clerical error. It was a calculated maneuver executed in the final moments before the vote.

Then, adding insult to injury, the ordinance came back to Gallatin still carrying the very same discrepancy, the three‑term cap that the City Council never debated, never voted on, and never authorized. Despite the fact that the city’s original intent was a two‑term limit, the version returned from Nashville was treated as final and was sent straight to the ballot as a three‑term ordinance. No correction. No clarification. No acknowledgment that the language had been altered without the city’s consent.

At that point, the damage was done. What began as a straightforward, locally driven reform had been reshaped into something entirely different by forces hiding in the shadows. And the people of Gallatin were left to vote on an ordinance that no one in their own government had ever approved in that form.

And here’s the part that still frustrates me: I voted for it, probably just like many of you, fully believing it was a two‑term cap. That’s what the city discussed. That’s what the public heard. That’s what everyone understood the reform to be. None of us had any reason to suspect that the version placed on the ballot had been quietly rewritten in Nashville to allow three terms instead.

We weren’t misinformed. We were blindsided.

So who’s really pulling the strings? The real action appears to have happened in the halls of the Capitol. Unfortunately, the walls don’t talk, and after all these years, no one can offer a clear account of what actually unfolded. All we’re left with are questions. Did something happen off the record in those final hours before the House vote? Were a few lawmakers swayed by long‑entrenched city officials or lobbyists to alter the resolution? Some observers even wonder whether long‑serving officials, anxious about protecting their positions, quietly applied pressure. Whatever the truth, a once‑straightforward charter change didn’t emerge untouched, and somewhere along the way, a “2” quietly became a “3”.

Whatever the motive, the result is undeniable: a term‑limits law that does not reflect what Gallatin’s elected representatives initially voted for, or what the people of Gallatin overwhelmingly supported.

Critics argue that the last‑minute change was designed to protect long‑serving officials who’ve built deep networks of influence. “Once they get into office, they like the power,” Commissioner Jeremy Mansfield has said. “They like the prestige, and they like to be there for a long time.”

He’s right. This isn’t about transparency. It’s about power, and who gets to keep it.

So now the question becomes: Who is really in charge in Gallatin? If a major change like extending term limits can be slipped in without public debate or council approval, what else is happening behind closed doors? Are backroom deals and political favors steering the future of our city more than the voices of its residents? And when the mayor and sitting council remain silent about these last‑minute maneuvers, are they complicit, or simply out of the loop?

Transparency isn’t a buzzword. It’s a promise. And right now, Gallatin’s leadership is breaking it.

Gallatin’s citizens deserve a government that operates in the daylight, not in the shadows of last‑minute amendments and political maneuvering. If we allow this to slide, we’re giving our leaders permission to rewrite the rules whenever it suits them.

It’s time to demand better.

Show up. Speak out. Ask the hard questions. Hold your elected officials accountable. Because if we don’t, no one else will.

Gallatin’s future should be shaped by its people, not by backroom deals.

You can find all the video and documents on the Truth Room.