It’s become a tradition in Miami to establish a new residency so you can run for office. And District 3 Commission candidate Rolando Escalona admitted to Ladra that he had moved to a small apartment in East Little Havana after his home, a duplex in West Little Havana, was drawn out of the district and into District 4 in the redistricting process.
So Denise Galvez Turros, who is also running in District 3, fulfilled another tradition: She filed a lawsuit earlier this month to try to get him kicked off the ballot over what she calls a “sham” residency — with less than two weeks left before the election is decided. Ladra wrote about the discrepancy. But instead of letting voters decide, Galvez Turros wants a judge to decide who lives where.
The trial is set for next Tuesday — just six days before the Nov. 4 election — and three days after early voting starts Saturday. Because, you know, nothing says “democracy” like trying to knock your opponent out of the race when people have already started casting ballots.
Read related: Where does Rolando really live? A new case of Miami’s political address dance?
Filed in Miami-Dade Circuit Court, the lawsuit filed Oct. 14 claims that Escalona doesn’t really live in the apartment he listed on his qualifying papers. The city charter requires candidates to live continuously in the district they are running in for a year. Galvez Turros says he and his wife actually live in District 4, based on a mortgage refinance agreement they signed in February that lists that address as their “primary residence.”
That, she says, is the “single most compelling piece of evidence” that Escalona is ineligible to run.
Escalona, for his part, says it’s all political theater from “longtime insiders who will do anything to hold onto power.”
“I live where I say I live,” Escalona said in a statement. “I work hard for my community, and I’m running to bring accountability and integrity back to City Hall. I am a resident of District 3 and am proud to call this community my home.”
His attorney, former state Rep. Juan-Carlos “JC” Planas, who lost a race last year for supervisor of elections, argues that Escalona meets every residency requirement under the law — and that the whole case is “baseless and part of a coordinated political strategy” by Miami’s “entrenched power structure” to eliminate a legitimate threat to the establishment.
“Any suggestion otherwise is a deliberate distortion of facts designated to mislead voters and manipulate the media narrative during a critical election,” Planas said.
That might not be far off. Because let’s be real: Galvez Turros has been going after Escalona for weeks in glossy, expensive mailers that practically scream desperation. And now she’s asking a judge to get Escalona out of the race altogether, because she doesn’t think she can beat him fair and square.
Political observers say that both Galvez And Escalona are competing for a slot on the runoff ballot against former Commissioner Frank Carollo, brother to Joe, who used to represent the district eight years ago. Because the other three candidates — Yvonne Ballona, Brenda Betancourt and Oscar Elio Alejandro — aren’t a threat to anyone. Ladra bets Galvez hasn’t even checked to see if any of them really live in the district. But she went out of her way to get Escalona’s business records, which show the 26th Avenue address, and his wife’s business records.
Read related: Denise Galvez Turros announces she’ll run for Miami Commission in District 3
Miami-Dade Civil Court Judge Beatrice Butchko Sanchez, in granting an emergency motion to expedite proceedings, zeroed in on another detail entirely: a homestead exemption on another property outside the district — claimed by Escalona’s wife, Astrid Gonzalez Nieto, and first reported right here on Political Cortadito.
The judge — who was assigned the case after Judge Abby Cynamon recused herself on Tuesday, said it was a presumption thqt the husband and wife would live together and noted they can only have one homestead exemption. “If you’re claiming a homestead exemption for one property,” she said, “that’s your homestead. Unless somebody’s willing to admit that that’s fraudulent.”
Planas pushed back, saying Escalona has no homestead exemption and that plenty of political couples live separately for residency purposes. “If the property appraiser wants to go after Mrs. Escalona for homestead fraud, that’s a completely separate issue,” he said.
Really? Did JC just throw the candidate’s wife under the bus?
Also, the judge didn’t care. The candidate is just as guilty by association. “I don’t understand how you could be running for an elected position and at the same time have your spouse not following the law when it comes to homestead exemption,” Butchko Sanchez said.
It’s almost like she works for the Galvez campaign. But the optics are messy. Especially in Miami, where residency rules have a long history of being — how shall we say — flexible.
“Mr. Escalona’s sham residency is fatal to his candidacy,” Galvez and her attorney, Reid Levin, say in the complaint. “Mr. Escalona cannot swear to his bank that his primary residence is outside the district while swearing to the city clerk that his continuous residence is within it. This documented pattern proves his intent was never to make the District 3 address his permanent, fixed home.”
But the argument falls hard on one thing: The home he used to live in was in District 3 until they carved it out during a ridiculous redistricting process that ended in court settlement and a judicial order. Escalona is only outside the district because of that. He’s just doing the same thing that Commissioner Miguel Gabela did so he could keep running in District 1, where he always lived, after his house was drawn out of the district intentionally (it was eventually drawn back in). He moved to establish residency. There is nothing illegal about that.
And, as much as she’d like to, Galvez — whose campaign has been smeared with her old arrests for DUI (2010) and credit cards theft (1994) — doesn’t have the first clue about anybody’s intentions. Escalona, whose wife and mother were living at the duplex when he first moved to Little Havana, has since signed a lease on a larger apartment in the same building, because they are expecting their first child. They could rent out the duplex. They could sell it. They could do a lot of things.
Read related: Alex Díaz de la Portilla: Telenovela villain or Miami’s comeback kid?
And even if Judge Butchko Sanchez sides with Galvez, it may not matter.
By now, ballots are printed, mailed, and already being returned. Early voting starts Saturday. Miami-Dade Elections lawyer Oren Rosenthal said it’s too late to remove anyone’s name. The most the court could do is order signs posted at polling places — telling voters that ballots cast for Escalona won’t count — and suppress results after the fact.
And who does this help the most? Why, Frank Carollo, of course. He’s going to head into a runoff against a wounded soldier, either way. He’s just sitting back and enjoying the show.
Because this lawsuit looks less like a good-faith challenge and more like a last-ditch Hail Mary from a candidate who knows she’s behind. Would Galvez Turros be taking this to court if Escalona wasn’t making inroads out there? She may be hoping to win in court what she seemingly can’t win at the ballot box. Because in Miami, if you can’t beat ’em… you sue ’em.
And, if she doesn’t get him kicked off the ballot, it could go either way. Voters might be twice bitten, all of a sudden shy to vote for someone who they aren’t sure lives in their district. Or, if they know Escalona, and they know he has always lived in D3 — and moved precisely so he could still represent them — they could see Galvez as an opportunist and decide not to reward her.

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The post Denise Galvez Turros wants judge to kick Rolando Escalona off Miami ballot appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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Part of a series of profiles about the Miami mayoral candidates
Let’s go back to the metaphor of Miami as telenovela, where City Commissioner Joe Carollo is the loud, unruly uncle who gets to the wedding late and gets into a fight. Former City Commissioner Alex Diaz de la Portilla — who is also running for mayor in the Nov. 4 election — is the show’s star villain.
ADLP somehow instigated the fight, como la mosquita muerta that he is, then took credit for stopping it and slept with the bride in a broom closet just a few steps from the open bar where he sealed a backroom real estate deal with another former elected who served time for mortgage fraud. All before, as the best man, he toasts the happy couple.
This fictionalized scenario could be part of the biography of the middle child of one of the 305’s most dynamic political dynasties. Before his fall from grace in 2023 — when he was suspended by the governor after his arrest on public corruption charges that included bribery and money laundering (later dropped) — Diaz de la Portilla had been a state rep, a senator and Florida Senate Majority Leader, a respected political consultant who helped craft the state’s medical marijuana legislation and is likely responsible for getting Congressman Carlos Gimenez elected to county mayor in the historic 2011 post-recall election.
His older brother Miguel Diaz de la Portilla was a state senator and, before that, a Miami-Dade Commissioner — the one who created the super majority requirement for building beyond the urban development boundary — and is now a lobbyist representing developers and businesses, focusing on land use, zoning, and permitting issues. His baby brother Renier Diaz de la Portilla was a state rep for one term and a Miami-Dade School Board member for two, and has lost several state, county commission and judicial races since.
The boys — who sort of look like they walked out of a 1980s mob movie in this picture — also have an invisible sister named Maria, who is not in politics and is never seen or heard.
Alex is by far the loudest and most bombastic in the family and has been representing parts of Miami for decades, building a career trading on experience, contacts and an instinct for the inside game.
Read related: Alex Diaz de la Portilla finally cons his way back into office in Miami
But he hit on hard times after losing a bid to return to the state house in 2012, followed by a loss in a 2017 state senate primary to former State Rep. Jose Felix Diaz (who then lost to Annette Taddeo) and another loss in the 2018 special election to replace Miami-Dade Commissioner Bruno Barreiro, who resigned to run for office. He didn’t even make the runoff, coming in third behind Barreiro’s wife, Zoraida Barreiro, and Eileen Higgins, who went on to win the seat and is now in the mayoral race with ADLP and 11 other candidates. Because Miami.
In 2019, Diaz de la Portilla ran for city commission — in District 1, not District 3 which is where his actual house was. He wanted everyone to believe that he lived with his brother Renier, his brother’s partner and their child in a two bedroom apartment by the Miami River and not at the Little Havana house he grew up in. But some of the time he lived at the East Hotel in Brickell.
That’s part of what got him in trouble. When he was arrested in September 2023, it was tied to alleged schemes involving campaign money and pay-for-play accusations that included accommodations at the hotel and food and drink and a viewing party suite for one of Renier’s ill-fated campaigns for public office. Diaz de la Portilla was accused of taking more than $250,000 in cash contributions to his political action committee as well as in-kind payments for the hotel and entertainment from David and Leila Centner, the owners of The Centner Academy, who wanted to build a sports dome for their students at a public park across the street. Alex made it happen at the commission, by basically gifting them the park.
The Centners, by the way, have given Diaz de la Portilla’s PAC at least $100,000 for this election.
The criminal case, was sent to Broward County after our esteemed Miami-Dade State Attorney Kathy Fernandez-Rundle recused herself — she had a relationship with the lobbyist that was arrested with ADLP — and they dropped it last year, saying it did not hold up (read: they bungled it).
Read related: Miami’s Alex Diaz de la Portilla arrested on corruption, pay-for-play park deal
But it’s not off brand for Diaz de la Portilla, who has been accused in a series of scandals, aside from his residency question, leading up to his arrest that included:

The discovery of not one, but two ghost employees stealing taxpayer dollars, including Jenny Nillo, a longtime campaign operative and mortgage fraud convict who was drunk driving around doing errands for Diaz de la Portilla in a city car, drinking beer out of a paper bag-wrapped can. Among her duties: Delivering his dry cleaning and picking up his sauce.
The alleged shakedown of the Rickenbacker Marina operator in a scheme where he allegedly promised his vote in exchange for a piece of the pie. A judge dismissed the case last year.
An illegal, alcohol-serving, “pop-up” nightclub in Allaphattah that he was caught at, where he told the code enforcement officer to “walk away.” The officer, who cited the property owner for several violations, Suzann Nicholson, was later fired for failing to “protect” the commissioner.
The late night Beacon Boulevard accident in the city car, where Diaz de la Portilla was “passenger one,” but never named in the accident report, which was managed by the city attorney. We ultimately learned it was his driver/sergeant at arms’ fault, but we never learned who the female passenger was. The other car was allegedly totaled. There was no sobriety test.
Disappearing COVID gift cards. Hundreds of them.
Using the redistricting process to protect his incumbency, drawing an opponent out of the district, and to help out Joe Carollo carving his home into District 3, so he wouldn’t lose it in the $63.5 million judgement against him for violating the First Amendment of two Little Havana businessmen.
Hiring former City Commissioner Humberto Hernandez, who has been arrested on election fraud and mortgage fraud.
Taking political committee donations from former Commissioner Marc Sarnoff at the same time as he was voting on the LED billboards that Sarnoff was representing.

Meanwhile, he lost his childhood home to foreclosure and is in a nasty divorce with his second wife, who he has accused of stealing his mother’s jewelry.
Told you this was telenovela stuff. Someone, call Netflix.
Read related: Body cam video shows ADLP at illegal club; tells code inspector to ‘Walk away’
This campaign for mayor is more like a redemption tour after his charges were dropped. Diaz de la Portillo, who pleaded not guilty, had always called the charges politically motivated. In campaign ads, he compares himself to President Donald Trump and says the radical left tried to shut him down.
He’s doubling down on the anti-woke vote with a second commercial that promise no men in women’s bathrooms. Because that’s more important to him than affordable housing or traffic or sustainability
Still, the underlying theme is that he was vindicated. Which isn’t exactly right. He wasn’t acquitted. The state just couldn’t prove its case.
But while the dismissal cleared him legally, and opened the door for his latest run, it may not have cleared him politically, or in the public eye. Diaz de la Portilla, who lost his re-election bid for the commission in 2023 to Miguel Gabela, did not make the cut in the NBC/Miami Herald debate of candidates who polled at least 10%. Even former Miami-Dade Commissioner Mayor Sir Xavier Suarez was invited.
Read related: Alex Diaz de la Portilla rides the Trump train to ‘vindication’ in new video ad
What does Diaz de la Portilla bring to the table? A deep knowledge and understanding of political horse-trading, a fat Rolodex, and the ability to rattle opponents. What does he brings to the microscope: a record that opponents will happily re-air, and a track record that could lead voters to ask whether the “comeback” is redemption or a rerun. In a crowded field of 13, this kind of polarizing résumé could make it to the runoff.
Díaz de la Portilla is Miami politics in microcosm — polished, practiced, bilingual and never boring.
Why voters should squint before they smile: critics will point to the optics — the arrest, the suspension, the late-night mugshots and the messy headlines — and say that a mayor should be above even the appearance of misconduct. Supporters will point to his long track record and argue that the charges were dropped and the man was vindicated.
The post Alex Díaz de la Portilla: Telenovela villain or Miami’s comeback kid? appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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With “Crossing gates” and crossed fingers
After years of promises, delays, and more ribbon-cutting photo ops than actual buses, the so-called Bus Rapid Transit system — now rebranded as the MetroExpress — is finally set to open later this month.
Mayor Daniella Levine Cava, who inherited the project from former mayor Carlos Gimenez, now a Congressman, took reporters and the Herald Editorial Board on a “demonstration ride” last week — part victory lap, part PR cleanup — of the county’s first all-electric rapid bus service along the stretch between Southwest 152nd Street and 168th Street. Riders were treated to air conditioning, Wi-Fi, cell charging stations, and a little political spin.
The county wants everyone to believe this is “rail-like.” But let’s be honest, people: It’s still a bus. A very nice, all-electric bus — the longest BRT line in the nation, according to the county — but not the Metrorail train leg to South Dade that voters were sold more than 20 years ago when they agreed to the half-penny transit tax.
Remember that? That was supposed to build real rail from Dadeland to Florida City. Instead, residents are getting a dressed-up bus line — and they’ve been waiting since 2018 for even that.
The 20-mile MetroExpress will run in dedicated lanes along U.S. 1, with 14 stations and all the modern trimmings. The county says the ride from Homestead to Dadeland South will take under an hour during rush hour — instead of the current 1 hour and 40 minutes. That’s good news for the 200,000 people who live within a mile of the corridor.
But here’s the kicker: Those rail-style crossing gates, the same that are used for trains, will block cars so the buses can glide through without delay. They will be coming down at major intersections every few minutes during rush hour, from 6 to 9 a.m. heading north and from 4 to 6 p.m. heading south. Because nothing says “rapid” like more flashing lights and horns on your morning commute. The rest of us? We wait. Even off-peak, the buses get a little green-light favoritism.
Is that a built-in ridership incentive? South Dade drivers may soon be sitting behind flashing red gates watching the buses fly by. Maybe that’s why county officials say the super buses will convince people to ditch their cars.
Read related: Miami-Dade Commission to discuss $245 million South Dade Transit station
If not it’s going to be a huge waste of public money. The BRT cost about $300 million, one-third of that from federal money. Rail, the county says, would have cost more than $1 billion and wouldn’t qualify for federal transit grants because of low ridership projections. And last year, the commission approved the construction of the $245 million South Dade Transit Operations Center, a new, state-of-the-art facility designed to support the BRT. The “first-of-its-kind facility” will maintain, recharge and dispatch a fleet of 100 new electric buses. The SDTOC will also serve as a vital emergency command center and is scheduled for completion in Summer 2026. 
None of that has stopped South Dade residents from feeling shortchanged. For decades, the stretch between Dadeland and Florida City has been the forgotten rail corridor — always promised, never delivered.
Instead, Miami-Dade’s transit expansion dreams keep shrinking with every administration. From the SMART Plan to “rail-like buses,” every big fix seems to end with a cheaper substitute.
And will people ride it?
That’s the $300 million question. Even with sleek stations and no extra fare to transfer to Metrorail, the county hasn’t said how much actual time the average driver would save by switching. And once they get to Dadeland South, BRT riders still have to get off the bus and onto the train — another point of friction that could turn would-be commuters right back to their cars.
As established earlier, there are already about 200,000 people living within a mile of the BRT line. And more are coming. The county’s new transit oriented development incentives will bring new mixed-use and residential projects along U.S. 1.
Read related: Miami-Dade makes affordable housing strides with transit oriented projects
In April, La Alcaldesa and Commissioner Kionne McGhee celebrated the grand opening of the first phase of Quail Roost Station, a 200-unit development that brings affordable housing for seniors to Cutler Bay.
Mayor Levine Cava calls it a “transformative project.” Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the latest example of how Miami-Dade keeps paving over its own transit promises — one glossy ribbon-cutting at a time.
Here’s the final stop: If this thing really works — if people truly start riding it instead of just tweeting about it — great. Miami-Dade desperately needs a win in public transit. But if not, the MetroExpress may become another expensive reminder that South Dade asked for a train and got a bus with better PR.
Either way, mark your calendars for Oct. 27. The gates are coming down. Literally.

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The post BRT is finally here — six years, $300M, and one big ‘rail-like’ shrug later appeared first on Political Cortadito.

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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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