Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
If Miami politics were a telenovela, City Commissioner Joe Carollo would be the uncle who shows up late at the wedding, throws a chair, sparks three lawsuits — and then somehow gets two standing ovations.
Now, Carollo is formally in the mayoral scrum — late, brash, defiant, unapologetic and exactly the kind of spectacle Miami loves with its morning cafecito. He’s like the I-95 pile-up you have to crane your neck to see.
Carollo’s political résumé is equal parts longevity and controversy. He has been stirring the political pot in Miami since disco was still a thing — the first time.
He was only 24 when he first got elected to the City Commission in 1979 — and he’s been making enemies ever since. By 1982, even the police chief was accusing him of arm-twisting cops for favors and threatening to cut their budget if they didn’t play ball. In 1983, Carollo was supposed to endorse Mayor Maurice Ferré — his old ally — but instead ambushed him on stage and called him anti-Cuban. The betrayal was so spectacular it’s still talked about decades later.
Read related: Joe Carollo, ADLP are in, make Miami mayoral ballot a lucky 13 dog pile
From there, it’s been a wild ride of feuds, firings, and full-blown soap opera or evangelical rally with Joe as the preacher.
Carollo lost his commission seat, won it back eight years later, and in 1996 stumbled into the mayor’s office in a special election after the death of Stephen P. Clark. Within months, Miami was drowning in debt and scandal, commissioners were getting arrested, and Joe was fighting everyone in sight.
He’s been fired, reinstated, sued, and re-sued more times than most people change cell phones. In the 1997 mayoral race, he lost to Xavier Suarez — then sued over absentee ballot fraud and actually got the election thrown out. The court called it a “scheme to defraud.” Joe took back the mayor’s seat like a man reclaiming his throne.
But his second turn as mayor was just as messy — firing city managers three times in one week, battling over the Miami Circle (he did not want to preserve it) and suing his own voters after they voted to switch to a strong-mayor system. You can’t make this stuff up.
And who could forget the Elián González circus, when Carollo turned into a full-time talk-show guest, calling the child’s father an abuser and saying federal agents were Castro’s spies. When the dust settled, City Hall was literally pelted with bananas — as in, a “banana republic.”
Fast forward: Carollo got fired as Doral’s city manager in 2014 for bullying and “nonsense,” sued the city, then got reinstated just so he could quit. Naturally. Three years later, he resurfaced again — back on the Miami Commission, sitting in his brother Frank Carollo’s old seat, like nothing had ever happened.
Since then, he’s taken on everyone from the Little Havana arts community to homeless advocates to his own police chiefs. He’s been accused of abusing power, of weaponizing code enforcement, and of turning City Hall into his personal revenge machine. But somehow, Joe Carollo keeps surviving — lawsuit after lawsuit, scandal after scandal, election after election. Like a true Miami political cockroach, he never dies. He just finds another office to run for.
He’s a veteran of City Hall comebacks and headline-grabbing melees, a commissioner who delights in theatrical displays — whether whipping out satellite imagery to shame a colleague on the dais or a video clip of a dancing Elvis-clad police chief with a noticeable bulge — and castigating critics with long, monotonous diatribes full of lies and vitriol. That’s when he’s not yelling at someone.
His long shadow includes courtroom defeats, residency challenges, a recall effort, political favors, a tacky no-bid cat and dog sculpture park that cost almost $1 million — a pet project managed by his wife, Marjorie, which caused a Bayfront Trust Management Trust board member to resign — using a slush fund for his political ambitions and accusations that local governance under him too often looks like personal and political retribution. That record is now front-and-center in a mayoral campaign that feels vintage Carollo: chaotic, combative, and irresistibly entertaining.
Even his 2001 domestic violence arrest for throwing a teacup at his then wife has been turned into a local joke — complete with merch: You can buy a “wife-beater” tank top with his mugshot on it, or a mug, or a sticker and other stuff from the BecauseMiami website. Ladra is getting a sticker for $9.99.
Read related: Protest ‘chicken’ arrested at Miami park opening for dogs, cats and Joe Carollo
And let’s remember when he got that protester in a chicken costume arrested at the opening of that cat and dog boondoggle in another show of Pollo Carollo’s abuse of power. All the chicken guy was doing was passing out wife-beater shirts with Joe’s face on them.
The legal cloud: $63.5 million verdict and more
You can’t write a Carollo profile without the litigation chapter.
In 2023, a Broward County jury ordered Carollo to pay $63.5 million to a pair of Little Havana businessmen who accused him of weaponizing city offices to harass them after they backed his rival. The verdict landed like a political grenade: it’s big, ugly, and impossible to ignore — both politically and financially. But Carollo has tried, by using the redistricting process to carve his house back into District 3 so that it can’t be seized by the courts.
There have been more lawsuits that followed, but Carollo’s lawyers — who have reportedly cost the city at least $10 million so far — have argued the claims were unfounded or politically motivated. Appeals and litigation linger. But the headline number — sixty-three and a half million — is imprinted on anyone watching Miami politics. It could be the title of his biography.
That case feeds directly into the broader narrative critics use against him: that Carollo treats code enforcement, permitting, and other municipal levers as tools to punish enemies. He treated the Bayfront Park Management Trust like his own personal piggy bank until the commission wrestled it away from him. There was supposed to be an investigation into disappearing funds and payments made to friends and for his district commission office out of the Bayfront Park Trust monies. Ladra will check on it.
But, for years, city staff and citizens alike have complained about financial discrepancies and what they call “selective enforcement,” — and civic watchdogs have raised alarms about the pattern.
For voters who prize clean governance, the verdict is a heavy anchor to his bid for the mayor’s office.
There’s a running theme: accusations that Carollo weaponizes city government. From heated commission meetings, shouting matches and public displays to claims that city resources were misused against perceived opponents or for personal pals, the story line repeats — and national outlets picked up the thread when Miami’s municipal affairs became a cautionary tale. Critics point to episodes where code, police, and city apparatus were alleged to have been turned into a political cudgel. Carollo answers that he’s enforcing rules and representing the concerns of residents. His defenders cast him as a crusader against sloppiness and corruption. The truth, as always in Miami, is available in both versions — and voters decide which one matters more.
Read related: Commissioner Miguel Gabela set to expose more Bayfront Park Trust issues
Most recently, Carollo stepped into a fresh controversy when surveillance and neighbor photos showed a city staffer wearing a “Commissioner Joe Carollo District 3 Staff” shirt removing campaign signs for mayoral rival Emilio González, the former city manager who has become Crazy Joes biggest target. The incident — quickly labeled “Sign-gate” on social media — was seized on by rival campaigns as emblematic of Carollo’s alleged habit of blending official duty and political advantage. González and others call it another example of his abuse of office. Carollo’s camp insists the take-downs are routine code enforcement against illegally posted signs, and showed reporters other signs — “efficiency for rent,” tree removal offers, etc — that have been plucked throughout the district throughout the years.
He could be right. If it was political, wouldn’t they be replacing them with Carollo signs?
Recall attempts, theatrics, and the Carollo brand
Carollo’s knack for drama and abuse of office has drawn political pushback and a 2020 recall drive that was signed by more than 1,900 voters in District 3, but ultimately failed to make the ballot on procedural grounds. He has continued thriving as a polarizing figure — to some, a fearless watchdog; to others, a petty autocrat who enjoys the fight more than the fix. The recall episode cemented a brand: Joe is both unavoidable and unstoppable, the politician you love to hate or hate to love.
That brand has kept him politically alive through wins, losses, and lawsuits. It’s also a selling point with a certain slice of voters who like tough talk and performative accountability — even if it comes with a messy tab. And donors know that, which is why Carollo’s fundraising shows he’s a contender. He reported getting almost $713,000 in the last quarter, ending Sept. 30, between his campaign account and his political action committee, Miami First.
The big donations include $100,000 from an investment firm in Middleberg, Florida, just southwest of Jacksonville; $25,000 from auto mogul and former Philadelphia Eagles owner Norman Braman; $25,000 from competing auto mogul Mario Murgado, who took pains to hide it, making it in the name of his Maserati dealership in New Jersey, for whatever reason, instead of Brickell Motors; $15,000 from Bayside Marketplace; $10,000 from real estate investor and developer Craig Robbins, in four separate checks and $10,000 from uber-connected lobbyist Melissa Tapanes.
There are not enough dollars in the world to wash away the stains of civil judgments and public relations disasters that follow Carollo around, so he’s spending that money trashing other candidates instead, with multiple hit piece mailers hitting mailboxes, mostly attacking Gonzalez.
A career built on theatrics — and a stubborn refusal to go quietly
Policy-wise, Carollo often frames himself as the plain-talking realist: clean up the streets, enforce the rules, and stop what he frames as special-interest carve-outs. He grabs the populist mic and wags a finger at perceived sloppiness in city services or the county’s outsized draws on city taxes. There are people in Silver Bluff who love him because he closed their streets illegally — and the county had to sue to get them reopened again.
But his critics argue that his solutions tend to be performative — theater masquerading as governance — and that his political instincts prioritize scoring points over building durable policy. The paradox: he often raises the issues voters care about, but his methods make even those who agree with him uneasy.
That’s because the other shit he says sucks the oxygen out of the room: the claims that so many communists and Cuban spies are living among us, the accusations that Chavistas and drug dealers are funding his opponents campaigns, the references to city officials and Mayor Francis Suarez looking the other way when the city hired a “sexual predator.” It’s red meat for his viejito base and was a staple of his morning radio show, Miami Al Dia, on AmericaRadio, which seems to have been suspended while he campaigns but which he used until just the other week to attack most of his opponents in the race.
Carollo also spent nearly $1 million to elect Commission District 4 candidate Ralph Rosado, which he later said was “the biggest political mistake of my life.”
That is a hard title to get.
Read related: Bromance break-up at Miami City Hall as Joe Carollo and Ralph Rosado split
Joe Carollo is Miami’s political live wire: dramatic, combustible, and intense. He draws headlines and fills seats at forums; he terrifies or enrages opponents and thrills a base that likes its politicians raw and entertaining. But patterns matter: lawsuits, recalls, and now sign-removal theatrics contribute to a dossier that won’t look great in a general election spotlight.
Speaking of dossiers, if you are reading this story, he might have one on you. Just ask attorney David Winker, who was brave enough to represent the recall group and got a code enforcement knock on his door.
If you like your city leadership unvarnished and confrontational, Joe is your debutante and wrecking ball rolled into one. If you want a mayor who manages risk, avoids costly civil verdicts, and doesn’t make municipal business personal, you’ll have to look at someone else.
Either way, Carollo’s back in the ring. And for Miami, that means more drama, maybe a courtroom filing or two, and — for better or worse — very little dullness. The question is whether voters want a mayor who delights in the fight, or someone who can win policy victories without generating $63.5 million worth of grievances along the way.
And, hey, he can always go back to morning radio.
The post Commissioner Joe Carollo: Miami’s favorite chaos agent runs for mayor appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
Miami-Dade Commissioner Eileen Higgins wants to make history as the city of Miami’s first female mayor. And she just might have got the money, the mailing lists, and the establishment muscle to do it.
The District 5 commissioner has spent six years mastering the county bureaucracy, but critics say she’s also mastered the art of pleasing the developers and lobbyists who helped build her war chest. Higgins is the only candidate who qualified by petition and says she’s running for mayor to “make government work for people,” But some Miamians worry that only means her people. Known for her process-driven style and calm, bilingual polish, “La Gringa” Higgins is selling experience and competence. Her opponents call it complicity.
An engineer by training with an MBA from Cornell, the self-admitted nerd traded gears and spreadsheets for civic life and was elected county commissioner for District 5 in 2018’s special election to replace Bruno Barreiro, who had resigned to run for Congress. The district includes a part of Miami Beach, but is mostly made up of Brickell, Downtown and Little Havana. And it was a surprise to everyone that she won, beating Zoraida Barreiro, the incumbent’s wife, with 53% of the vote in a runoff after both women edged out former Sen. Alex Diaz de la Portilla, before he ran for city of Miami commissioner.
Four years later, she held on the the seat against ADLP’s baby brother, former Miami-Dade School Board Member Renier Diaz de la Portilla in what had become an ugly race full of hit pieces that called her a communist and an outsider.
All the while, she’s been selling herself as the wonk who can fix the all the government messes. Even though some say she helps create them.
Read related: Eileen Higgins makes history leading special county race against the odds
Her pitch for Miami mayor? Simple, practical, and annoyingly effective: cut the red tape, speed up permitting, expand transit, protect neighborhoods, and manage money so projects actually get built. On the stump she leans into a technocrat’s confidence: “Fix the system and the outcomes will follow.” That message has given her early traction — a summer poll showed Higgins with the biggest name recognition and a sizable lead among declared and rumored candidates.
She runs like an organizer who learned to love process. Higgins’ campaign website reads like a service-delivery memo: streamline permitting so small builders and nonprofits can move forward easier, push resilience and affordable-housing partnerships that actually produce units, and defend free local transit like trolleys and Metromover — never mind that she just two months ago proposed charging $1,200 a year for downtown residents to use the Metromover. Even though she is probably the only one of the candidates who uses the public bus and rapid transit regularly.
Higgins says her policy platform equals “no drama, just results.” And that may be the reason why a lot of national and local politicians and organizations are piling in behind her.
EMILY’s List — the big gun for pro-choice women candidates — endorsed Higgins this summer. Local heavyweights and allied electeds have followed suit: former Miami Beach Mayor Dan Gelber and South Miami Mayor Javier Fernández endorsed her, and then Miami-Dade Mayor Daniella Levine Cava gave her a very public boost. That matters in a messy field: endorsements buy earned media, volunteers, and credibility.
Read related: Daniella Levine Cava gives Higgins the expected abrazo in Miami mayor’s race
On the debate stage, Higgins has been the counterpoint to the showmen, the antidote to the antics. Ladra felt every one of her eyerolls during the Downtown Neighbors Association debate last month when other candidates let their crazy out. But as candidates traded sparks about corruption and character, Higgins came off like the person who actually reads the permits — she drilled into the city’s broken permitting process and argued that bad management, not ideology, is slowing housing and infrastructure.
She’s been a mostly “do no harm” kind of candidate — leaving the mud-slinging to the Democratic Party — but she did take a few digs during the DNA debate to set herself apart from the other candidates.
“If you want someone who spends their days twittering and TikToking, you’ll find that on the ballot,” she said, and she must have been referring to former Commissioner Ken Russell, the other big name Dem on the ballot stripping away votes. “If you want someone who spends their days in court, you’ll find that on your ballot,” Higgins added, and we know she’s talking about Commissioner Joe Carollo, who has been sued for his abuse of power and has cost the city at least $10 million in legal fees.
“If you want someone who has already mismanaged the city, you have that, too,” she quipped. Former City Manager Emilio Gonzalez — who was headed into a runoff with Higgins in an early poll — asked “was that for me?” He knows it was.
Read related: One-liners and other memorable moments from Miami mayoral debate
Her strengths include enviable name recognition, county track record (and pulpit) and engineering background, at a time when resiliency and infrastructure are key. She also has all those endorsements, which are not only good for promoting her credebility but actually translate to dollars and feet on the ground .
Weaknesses? Her pitch is not sexy. Voters love fixes until those fixes require painful political priorities to be picked. Permitting reform is crucial — but it isn’t a viral TikTok soundbite. Will her competence message move the needle with voters who want fast relief on housing and taxes? That’s the test. And while she’s a Democrat, Higgins is nothing if not pragmatic. That pleases moderates and unions but it can irritate progressives who want bold structural change (e.g., aggressive inclusionary zoning or confrontational fights with Tallahassee).
Then there’s the inherent baggage of the track record she touts. She’s running in a cycle where “cleaning up City Hall” is a veritable staple. Except some see Higgins as part of the system she says she’s gonna fix.
The supposed transit champion wanted in 2022 to sideline the Citizens Independent Transportation Trust, which provides oversight of the half penny sales tax spending, by amending the process so that projects and contracts that would normally go to the CITT first would go straight to the county commission instead. Like that’s a good idea. She also wanted the CITT to stop looking at $1 million plus projects that do not use surtax funds — a practice started when the administration began to use the half-penny monies for operating expenses — and for the commission to have an override power on CITT recommendations with a simple majority, rather than the 2/3 vote needed.
Classic power grab.
Read related: CITT rejects Eileen Higgins’ strike to strip oversight on transit contracts
Critics have also questioned her green stripes after she supported moves the county made that advanced construction of the country’s largest waste-to-energy facility, despite dozens if not hundreds of emails and speakers against it and warnings from every single environmental group.
And there’s the fact that one of the political action committees she’s connected to, Rebrand Politics, has accepted $19,000 from Florida Power & Light, one of the main bidders on what will be a $1.9 billion, 30-year project. Meanwhile, she refused to sit with the Sierra Club until they fired Russell as their lobbyist. And then she didn’t meet with them anyway.
That stinks worse than the garbage.
Then during the last budget process, she voted for a “restructuring” that environmentalists say will actually weaken the Division of Environmental Resources Management — better known as DERM — and hand developers a major win by taking away the only real watchdog on the permits for wetlands, mangroves and other environmentally sensitive properties. She knows that was good for developers. She’s a nerd, remember?
Some critics say that just proves she’s part of the pro-development, pro-process establishment. It is true that a huge chunk of the contributions to her political action committee comes from developers or real estate and construction interests. It includes a $50,000 check from the Related Group and Jorge Perez allegedly told Ken Russell that Higgins “has been very, very good to us.”
Read related: Developers get gift-wrapped, weaker DERM in Miami-Dade budget shuffle
La Gringa has raised at least $813,000 combined in her campaign account and her political action committee, Ethical Leadership for Miami — though her political consultant, Christian Ulvert, has other PACs he can tap into. Before it’s over Nov. 4, Camp Eileen will likely have spent more than $1 million between all her accounts.
Higgins may not spark fireworks, but she is the candidate for voters who want the lights turned on and the potholes filled without a reality-TV meltdown. She appeals to developers, sure. But also to business leaders, transit advocates, union members, teachers, neighborhood groups, and voters who are tired of noise and want outcomes. Her endorsements, fundraising, ground game machinery and early polling give her a structural edge in a crowded field.
But Miami’s electorate is allergic to bland competence if it smells like business-as-usual.
If a rival frames Higgins as all talk and no walk — or if the race turns on culture war flashpoints where her technocratic instincts don’t translate into punchy TV moments — her early lead could erode. Voter turnout will decide whether process fixes win hearts the way that free, frozen turkeys at Thanksgiving do.
In this messy mayoral race, where anger and nostalgia and big promises all have airtime, the quiet competent candidate must prove one thing: that competence can feel like change. If she can make permits and trolleys feel like justice, she wins. If she can’t, Miami will pick drama over decent governance — again.
The post Eileen Higgins: An engineer who wants to run Miami like a well-oiled machine appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
Former Miami City Commissioner Ken Russell wants Miami voters to give him another go — this time in the mayor’s chair.
The same Ken Russell who once stood out for his clean-cut idealism and YouTube-friendly optimism when he joined the commission in 2015, now promises to “take out the garbage” at City Hall. If voters can forgive him for leaving early in 2022 to run for higher office.
Russell says Miami is broken — corrupt, disconnected, unaffordable — and that he’s the one who can fix it. His campaign pitch is all about “courage, character, and community,” and he’s playing the reform card hard: expand the commission, cap term limits, clean up the back-room deals and bring residents back into the process.
He’s the candidate talking about affordable housing like it’s personal. On the dais, he pushed for co-living and inclusionary zoning — ideas that tried to make room for regular working people in a city built for millionaires. The problem is, they never really took off. His zoning fixes were pre-empted by Tallahassee and his housing ideas ran into developer pushback. It’s a nice theory. Not much of it became reality.
Still, Russell likes to show receipts. He passed an environmental ordinance to limit fertilizer runoff into Biscayne Bay and was the only commissioner who voted against criminalizing feeding the homeless. That independence has earned him some respect — and some enemies.
The 52-year-old former yo-yo champ (yes, that’s true) has been chasing bigger stages for years. He toyed around with congressional seat once but withdrew, and running against then-Sen. Marco Rubio before he left his commission seat early to run for Congress for reals, just to lose in the primary to Annette Taddeo. Now he’s back home trying to convince voters he’s focused on Miami again, and not still trying to use it as a stepping stone to a larger stage.
Read related: Ken Russell qualifies for November Miami mayoral race; ADLP dips one toe
On the debate stage, Russell has looked sharp and steady — no gaffes, no real sputters. But he had plenty of jabs and zingers. He comes off as the grown-up in a crowded field of candidates yelling over each other. He talks policy, but he’s also shown that he’s not afraid to throw punches. Translation: He’s not as bland as he looks.
And his performance has earned him a spike in the polls.
Plus, he is probably the only candidate who has been out knocking on doors for three hours every day for months. He says he’s going to knock on his 2,000th door this week and walk his 100th mile — ala Lawton Chiles.
That said, he is pretty much the male version of Miami-Dade Commissioner Eileen Higgins, who is one of the 13 running for the mayor’s post and has consistently been leading the polls. The two big Democrats in the non-partisan race (yeah, right) are competing for a lot of the same environmental-friendly, socially-conscious, or otherwise “woke” votes.
A big difference is that Higgins has way more money — $813,000 collected in her campaign account and her political action committee, compared to a total of $184,000 for both Russell’s campaign account and his PAC. She has the campaign machinery. She also has the endorsement of Miami-Dade Mayor Daniella Levine Cava, who is out there campaigning with Higgins at events in what seems like a bit too much back scratching (more on that later).
Meanwhile, Russell has the backing of “two of the most environmental mayors in Miami-Dade,” in former South Miami Mayor Phil Stoddard and former Pinecrest Mayor Cindy Lerner. But Ladra’s nose is twitching because these greenies come with a bit of a stench.
Stoddard’s past includes a bizarre burglary episode in which police found him stark naked at home with teenage foreign student and accusations of police misreporting, and Lerner, who is a defender of open space and transit, lost two county commission races in a row and has been accused of steering no-bid deals to relatives without disclosure. Hardly the kind of squeaky-clean champions Russell needs when he’s fighting for votes in neighborhoods that care about trust. Russell may be banking on their name-brand heft among environmental voters. But the risk is real: his opponents can package these endorsements not as badges of purity, but as proof he builds his coalition on flawed foot soldiers.
Another big difference is that Russell has amassed a sizable following online, posting slick, sometimes quirky TikToks and reels aimed at younger voters. He’s got 22,400 followers on Instagram, where Higgins has 5,255, and a whopping 413,600 followers on TikTok, plus 15.5 million likes. Higgins is not on TikTok. Unless she’s in one of his videos.
So, Russell may have mastered socials, but the question is whether that translates into turnout. Other candidates have tried to use it against him, calling him the selfie boy and mocking his online presence. They’re just jealous.
What Miami gets with Russell is someone who knows City Hall inside out — and who might actually try to clean it. His record shows good intentions that don’t always survive contact with political reality. He’s not corrupt, not flashy, and not particularly connected to the old machine — which makes him both refreshing and an underdog.
But he has one big stain: Russell was the critical swing vote when the city commission approved the 99-year lease for the site of the former Melreese Golf Course for the future Miami Freedom Park real estate boondoggle dressed up as a soccer stadium. In the lead-up to the vote, Russell insisted on specific concessions: wage minimum and full cost cleanup of the toxic ash-laden site. After the deal passed, Russell faced criticism (and possibly some regret) for his “about-face” on the vote. It’s hard to live that down.
Read related: Ken Russell’s about face on Miami Freedom Park vote seals political fate
Then after the developers, led by Jorge Mas and Miami Mayor Francis Suarez, went to the city to go back on a clause that he incited on to use $20 million in public benefit funding for the Freedom Park space — rather than to acquire other parks throughout the city, as Russell intended — he called it a “bait and switch.”
He has been criticized as ineffective as a commissioner, but says he can do more as mayor, where he can direct policy and surround himself with people who will help him fulfill his vision.
Ladra thinks Russell means what he says. But Miami politics eats idealists for breakfast. If he’s going to win, he’ll need more than courage and character. He’ll need a city ready to believe that honest can still work.
Ken Russell comes with a biography that reads more like a film than a standard political résumé. His father was a yo-yo champion with international ties; his mother, Japan’s national yo-yo champion. He, in turn, spent years competing and traveling in the yo-yo world himself. He went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, earned a B.S. in Business Administration, then stepped into the family business, and later opened a watersports store.
After he left office, he opened a consulting firm and worked for the Sierra Club — until Higgins got him fired.
His entrance into politics? A story of a dad refusing to wait. When he learned that the park where his kids played had become contaminated and the city drifted on action, he organized neighbors, demanded change, and got the job done. He uses that origin point to signal he isn’t a career politician — he’s a citizen-turned-public-servant.
In 2015, he won the race for District 2 on the City of Miami Commission (covering Coconut Grove, Brickell, Downtown, Edgewater) and served until December 2022, leaving early in a hissy fit protest after the dysfunctional commission cancelled the December meeting sorta as a last jab to him.
And he’s used the mayoral race to jab back, saying “at least I didn’t leave in handcuffs” to former Commissioner Alex Diaz de la Portilla, who was arrested in September 2023 on 14 public corruption charges including bribery and money laundering that were dropped more than a year later, and criticizing the amount of taxpayer money Commissioner Joe Carollo has wasted defending himself from lawsuits about his abuse of power.
Read related: Miami Commission cuts Ken Russell’s last meeting; he threatens to quit early
But he also has some heft. The key pillars of his campaign are:

Anti-corruption and transparency: In his announcement: “Corruption in Miami isn’t just an open secret — it’s a way of doing business.” He pledges to “take out the garbage at City Hall.”
Affordable housing and inclusive growth: He carries his own commission record (co-living zones, inclusionary zoning) into the campaign as proof that he knows housing is the challenge.
Resilience and neighborhood-first infrastructure: He frames the mayor’s job as coordinating all of Miami’s multiple crises — housing, climate, infrastructure — and reconnecting the city’s many neighborhoods rather than letting growth displace residents.
Governance reform: He wants to chair the commission himself (rather than appointing a peer), expand the size of the commission from 5 to 7 or 9 seats, shift city elections to even years (higher turnout), and implement lifetime term-limits. That’s structural change, not just policy.

That crisply defined platform — not just “help housing” but “governance reform + anti-corruption + housing + resilience” — joins his other strengths, which include a compelling personal story as an entrepreneur, activist, outsider who turned public servant, a visible and modern, digital-savvy, campaign and a credible record from his commission days, where he passed a water-quality ordinance to reduce fertilizer pollution and worked on co-living spaces and inclusionary zoning.
Russell leans into his “outsider who got things done” narrative. He vacuums in his past: the contaminated park, the grassroots mobilization, the yo-yo entrepreneur turned city commissioner. He uses that to signal authenticity (“I’m like your neighbour”) and competence (he’s done the actual job, passed ordinances). His campaign website emphasizes this: “From your next-door neighbor to Miami’s next Mayor.”
But he has his weaknesses, too. The congressional and short-lived Senate campaigns that ended in failure could be cast as “ambition without results,” and some of his signature policies are pre-empted by state law, which may raise questions of how much he can actually deliver given state-local constraint. And, of course, Melreese.
In a crowded field of 13 candidates, standing out is hard even for someone with Russell’s credentials. While he has been included in the most recent debate, which only had candidates that polled over 10%, Russell is still seen as the tail of the front-running pack, which includes Higgins, former City Manager Emilio González and, unbelievably, Carollo.
Russell represents a kind of “next generation” of Miami politics — not the old dynamic of political dynasties, not the purely developer-driven model, but someone who combines activism, private-sector experience, and municipal governance. He has cast himself as the one to build a city that doesn’t leave people behind, that rewires the system instead of just adding towers.
But the question remains: will the voters buy the story of system-cleaner and reformer in a city long comfortable with insiders and old networks? Will he move beyond housing talk and governance reform into delivering measurable difference? Will his digital savvy translate into real votes?
Russell’s path to victory is: win the progressive & reform-souled vote, consolidate that base, make housing his visceral promise, and become the “governance change” candidate. If he falters, it’ll be when the message gets too abstract or the opposition frames him as “another politician with promises”.
The post Ken Russell wants another shot at Miami City Hall — as mayor this time appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
Because apparently once, twice, and a full eight years on the Miami-Dade Commission weren’t enough, Xavier L. Suarez — Miami’s first Cuban-born mayor and, yes, the father of our current one — is running again to “fix” the city he’s already run. Twice.
At 76, Suarez says he’s not done serving. He’s pitching experience, fiscal discipline, and fairness — and maybe a little vindication. “I know how to run this city,” he says in that Harvard-polished but Calle Ocho-tested tone. “I did it before, and I can do it again.”
Suarez’s campaign message is simple and familiar: he’s the neighborhoods guy. The “pothole mayor.” The one who cares more about Coconut Grove’s flooding and Little Havana’s rent hikes than another luxury tower downtown. He promises to expand free trolleys and the Metromover, cut property taxes for homeowners, and push Tallahassee to take over catastrophic insurance for affordable housing.
He’s even got a catchy slogan this time on his website: “A mayor for all the neighborhoods.” Which sounds good, especially after years of downtown giveaways and developer sweetheart deals.
Read related: Former Miami Mayor Xavier Suarez to file for crowded city mayoral race
But Ladra remembers when Suarez was “the mayor for all the headlines.” Back in the ’90s, when his second term got voided by a judge because of absentee-ballot fraud. It wasn’t his fault, technically — but it was his election. But before he left, he got nicknamed “Mayor Loco,” for some bizarre behavior that included warring with the media, trying to fire the police chief without the proper authority and visiting constituents at their home late at night in a bata de casa.
To be fair, Suarez did some good. He paved streets, built about 1,500 affordable homes, and kept City Hall’s finances in line. He was accessible and hyperlocal before that was a campaign strategy. And as a county commissioner later, he actually worked — focusing on transit, neighborhood revitalization, and fiscal prudence.
In the 2020 mayoral race, he came in fourth place, with almost 11% of the vote, behind Daniella Levine Cava and Esteban “Steve” Bovo — who went on to the runoff — and former Miami-Dade Mayor Alex Penelas.
Read related: For Miami-Dade mayor, Xavier Suarez offers real change, no strings attached
The elder Suarez’s campaign feels like déjà vu — but maybe that’s the point. While others are promising “change,” he’s offering comfort. Familiarity. A return to when Miami wasn’t just a playground for the rich.
Opening speeches and debates with quotes from the likes of Winston Churchill and other dead people, Suarez — who is also known as Professor X — loves to educate whoever is listening. But some think he should be giving university lectures, not running for mayor in a city that has changed a lot since the film Back to the Future was first released. Because his campaign is a blast of the past.
He keeps brining up 1985, when he was first elected mayor, and 1997, when he got caught up in that absentee voter fraud thing, and 2002, when voters enacted the half-penny sales tax to fund transit improvements. But voters don’t really want to go back to the past. And Miami can’t. The city is bigger, messier, more global — and less patient. Younger voters may not remember the first Suarez era, or care. Some might just see him as another recycled politician from Miami’s greatest-hits album.
Others might see Suarez as the veteran general walking onto the field again, helmet dusted off, saying: “I’ve run this city. I can run it again.” He offers solidity and recognition, an old-hand’s promise to steady the ship. But for voters craving fresh energy or bold new direction, the question is whether steady is enough — or whether they’ll look for someone whose story starts now, not 40 years ago.
He’s been polling high enough to make it onto the debate stages, where he has not been as sharp as he used to be. But he’s been funny. And polite. And statesmanlike. But the financial support is not there, according to campaign finance reports, as Suarez has only raised $119,000 between his campaign account and his political action committee, Imagine Miami, as of Sept. 30.
Curiously, there has not been a lot of financial — or even emotional support — from his son, the current mayor. When he ran for mayor in 2020, Xavier Suarez tied himself to his son’s presidential dreams. But this year, Baby X brilla por su ausencia. Mayor Francis Suarez spent more than $1 million to elect District 4 Commissioner Ralph Rosado but, apparently, nothing on his dad’s effort to become his successor. There was a $26,000 expense to consultant Jesse Manzano for “research and data” in July, which could be for papi. Or it could have been on his effort to push the election off and extend his last term for a year.
Read related: Xavier Suarez leans on son Francis Suarez’s surging support in campaign
Still, the senior Suarez is a strong contender, especially among voters who value legacy, neighborhood focus, tax relief and “growth for all.” We can’t count him out. He’s smart and polished — though maybe not as quick on his feet, as seen on the debate stage. And with a famous last name, he automatically starts with attention — though this time he’ll have to convince people he’s not just the prequel to his son’s Netflix spinoff.
And he’ll need to persuade younger, newer voters that his “experience” isn’t just more of the same, and he’ll have to show a vision for Miami’s future that isn’t stuck in the past.
Ladra thinks there’s a kind of poetic symmetry in seeing Xavier Suarez try to reclaim his old title just as the city wrestles with corruption fatigue and runaway development. But the question remains: can he bring Miami forward by looking backward?
Or is this one more comeback tour nobody really asked for?
The post Miami’s first Cuban-born mayor, Xavier Suarez, wants his old job back — again appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
No, he’s not close to “Uncle Ron,” as he calls him — and Kenneth James DeSantis makes sure to clear that up right away.
The young attorney, relative to Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis — who is not affiliated with either the Republican or the Democratic parties — is one of 13 candidates running for Miami mayor on Nov. 4. And while the name might turn heads — he admits his grandmother gets preferential treatment at the hospital — his pitch is more about integrity than notoriety.
“I’m running for mayor because Miami is at a turning point,” DeSantis, a distant cousin of the governor’s, wrote the Miami Herald, in an answer to candidate questions that city commissioner Joe Carollo and former City Commissioner Alex Diaz de la Portilla did not respond to.
“We deserve leadership free of corruption and bold enough to build a fairer, safer and more resilient city.”
Sounds nice. Lofty, even. Especially in a city where corruption, favoritism and backroom deals are practically part of the municipal DNA. But DeSantis, who lives on the west side of the city near Coral Gables, says he wants to bring “fresh leadership and a lifelong commitment to justice” to Miami — which is a polite way of saying City Hall could use a good scrubbing.
Read related: Miami election surprise: A Ron DeSantis relative files to run for mayor
“Miami deserves a City Hall that is free from corruption and it hasn’t had that for generations,” he
“I got into the race once I learned all the shenanigans that were going on in City Hall and I realized that just coming I there and being transparent and open and honest would be a better situation than we have right now,” he told WPLG Channel 10 in a short interview this week. He criticized Mayor Francis Suarez for not disclosing his client list and said he “would never.” He also said that he would work to put all the city’s contract and spending online for everyone to see.
“I tried to audit some things I’m supposed to be talking about right now and couldn’t find certain things,” he said. “Sunlight is the best disinfectant.”
He’s not great at affordable housing, which seems to be the issue everybody wants to talk about. He says the problem cannot be handled at the city level alone, except when keeping taxes low and protecting existing affordable housing. He also says developers need to be pressed more to create housing for every income level. But the first thing he’d tackle — as someone who just redid his bathroom and did not have fun doing it — is a reform of the permitting process.
DeSantis was also incredibly human-like when it comes to the issue of homelessness and said they need empathy. “We are all just one car accident away from being in that position,” he said. “That could be you.”
It’s a stark contrast to his cousin’s stance. Gov. DeSantis signed a bill last year that prohibits camping or sleeping on public property, which cleared the way for many police departments to start arresting homeless people for just being homeless.
KJ DeSantis is a relative newcomer to politics — and Miami. He still has an upper New York area code, but said he’s fallen in love with the city. He’s also relatively new to the law.
Admitted to the Florida Bar in 2022, he works as an associate at the Cole, Scott & Kissane law firm in Dadeland, mostly representing small businesses and individuals. He’s also a member of the Florida Bar’s Aviation Law Committee through 2030, which shows a certain commitment to bureaucracy if nothing else.
The University of Richmond School of Law grad also has degrees from Vanderbilt University and the University of Cambridge — so he’s got the credentials. Or he just likes academia.
Read related: Christian Cevallos: Immigrant builder runs for Miami mayor to audit City Hall
What he doesn’t seem to have yet is a campaign machine. There’s no sign of social media presence or even yard signs. He hasn’t raised more than $2,840 as of his last campaign report. He may be running on principle alone. Oh, and that name. Some political observers speculate that he’s a plantidate, there to strip away GOP votes from someone, maybe former City Manager Emilio González, who actually has the governor’s endorsement.
But DeSantis says he’s focused on the issues Miamians actually live with every day: safety, traffic, flooding and the cost of living. His website is pretty thorough and hints at a future run, with “building a movement” language. Ladra loves his logo — with a flamingo riding (or pooping out) a lightning bolt. And you can even buy a “DeSantis For Miami” tote bag for $50.
If that’s how he’s going to handle business at the city, it doesn’t look good.
“The most pressing issue is creating safer neighborhoods, reducing traffic through better transit options, and fostering real economic growth that lifts Miamians’ incomes and prosperity,” he told The Herald. “Addressing these together will strengthen quality of life and opportunity across our community.”
That’s a tall order — and maybe a little idealistic and refreshing to hear someone talking about systems, fairness and transparency instead of photo ops and power plays. Whether that message breaks through all the ugly noise in crowded field and is another question. Ladra will bet it does not.
He joins a clown car of 13 candidates vying to replace term-limited Mayor Francis Suarez — a lineup that includes Gonzalez and other big names like City Commissioner Joe Carollo, former Commissioner Alex Diaz de la Portilla, former Commissioner Ken Russell, Miami-Dade Commissioner Eileen Higgins and former Miami-Dade Commissioner Mayor Sir Xavier Suarez, who held the seat in 1995 and wants to succeed his son in what he calls an “inverse dynasty.”
DeSantis got to see them interact at the Downtown Neighbors Alliance debate last month — he didn’t poll over 5%, so he wasn’t invited — as he sat in the audience. He was unimpressed.
“What struck me most was how much of a circus it became rom beginning to end,” he told Ladra after the debate. “From a group of of supposedly seasoned candidates, I expected more statesmanship and sharper debate skills. Some couldn’t even deliver a coherent closing statement.
“There was a clear lack of decorum and seriousness,” he said, like a man who has never been to a city commission meeting.
It is apparent that he is getting a quick education in Miami politics. He knows he’s not going to win — but it’s good practice for a future run

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Oh look, Lennar is back to nibble away at the Urban Development Boundary — again.
The Miami-Dade based developing giant — second largest homebuilder in the U.S. — has dusted off an old West Kendall land grab and this time, they brought friends and fresh asphalt.
After more than a decade of keeping this mega-development dream on ice, Lennar Corp., along with old-school Miami developer Edward Easton and a mystery crew from Boca Raton called Guherqui International, have filed new plans to push the UDB west and take 960 acres of farmland to build what they’re calling “City Park.”
Because “City Sprawl” didn’t test well with focus groups.
The monster $2 billion project — which is a lot more “city” than “park” — has been in the works for more than a year and officially filed its application with the county earlier this month. This would be the biggest UDB expansion request in years. It’s massive: 7,800 homes — mostly single-family — 1.5 million square feet of commercial space, 249 acres of lakeside beaches and green space, and a couple charter schools sprinkled in like parsley.
There’s even a 10-acre “community farm” in the site plan, which is a cute way of saying, “We’re totally not paving over farmland! We promise!”
They also promise to have almost 1,000 “workforce units” and create at least 13,000 “permanent” jobs.
Read related: Miami-Dade: Lennar wants to build 138 homes on 20 acres of rural South Dade
Like any UDB expansion bid, it requires a supermajority vote from the Miami-Dade County Commission — meaning seven out of 13 commissioners would have to sign off on moving the county’s urban footprint even closer to the edge of the Everglades. Developers said they probably wouldn’t go before the commission for another 14 months, which tells Ladra they’re counting votes — remember, half the commission is up for election next year — and trying to soften public resistance with lots of PR about “affordable housing” and “smart growth.”
The 960 acres of farmland sits between SW 136th and 152nd Streets and SW 162nd and 177th Avenues, just east of Krome Avenue, and has been zoned agricultural since, well, probably forever. But the heart of “City Park” is something developers call “the village core,” described as a mixed-use complex for entertainment, cultural programming, stores and restaurants with public spaces “that are designed to create one-of-a-kind experiences to foster strong social connections for residents and visitors.”
And sure, the Dolphin Expressway (836) is being extended into West Kendall. That was approved by the Greater Miami Expressway Authority — aka another public agency that loves ribbon-cuttings and hates wetlands. But a new highway doesn’t mean we need a whole city built next to it. That’s like putting in a fire hydrant and then inviting arsonists.
Lennar’s team says the development will include walking paths, its own fire rescue station, and plenty of green space. But we’ve seen this game before — big glossy renderings, sustainable buzzwords, and promises of infrastructure to come. Then the asphalt pours, the traffic piles up, the schools overflow, and taxpayers are left to clean up the mess.
Developers say this will be a sustainable community that will ease traffic because residents won’t have to drive east for work or shopping. Ladra can hear the snickers from Kendall commuters already. They say that to justify the biggest, boldest push yet to breach the UDB. They  say it’s the only site big enough to deliver what West Kendall “has been missing” — jobs, entertainment, and tax revenue.
Sure, and the last dozen UDB applications said the same thing before them.
Read related: Miami-Dade Commission approves 700 homes on 90 acres of mostly farmland
And let’s be real: There are multiple UDB expansion proposals pending right now as developers race to get their slice of South Florida’s last remaining open space. And the same commission that says “we need to be cautious about sprawl” is also handing out zoning changes like cafecito at Versailles.
Ladra says keep your eyes on who supports this. Who starts talking about “housing shortages” and “balanced development.” Who suddenly gets campaign donations from builders, consultants, and every LLC with a PO Box on Brickell.
Because this isn’t just another neighborhood. It’s a test. This isn’t just about 960 acres of farmland. It’s about whether Miami-Dade is willing to draw the line — or let Lennar erase it.
If they can expand the UDB for 7,800 homes in West Kendall, what’s next? A tech city by the Everglades? A private spaceport in the Redland? Don’t laugh — with the right lobbyist, anything’s possible in Miami-Dade.

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