Warren — The Van Dyke strip buzzes in the air like a relentless headache, a symphony of chaos that feels more like a warning than an invitation. Here I am, slumped in a booth at a diner that serves coffee so bitter it could double as a cleaning solvent.
Welcome to Warren, Michigan, where the promise of “modernization” is delivered with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on sedatives, leaving the town in a state of perpetual stagnation. While the world outside races forward, here we sit, marinating in our own inertia, as if the very concept of progress has been put on hold indefinitely.
City Hall is saturated with legal disputes. We’re operating with 25 fewer police officers than we need, a gaping hole in our law enforcement that’s been widening like a chasm since Mayor Lori Stone decided that the best approach to recruiting new cops was to subject them to the HR department’s ancient and clunky hiring process, which is more medieval torture chamber than pathway to public service.
It’s as if she thought the best way to attract officers to the force was to throw them into a bureaucratic blender, where enthusiasm goes to die and only the most masochistic candidates emerge, battered but somehow still willing to don the badge.
Remember Bill Dwyer? That old warhorse who had the audacity to suggest skipping the “antiquated” Civil Service exams to actually get some boots on the ground? Well, in March 2024, Stone decided to give him the “Goodfellas” send-off because their “viewpoints didn’t mesh.”
Now, the hiring process resembles a digital Bermuda Triangle where resumes vanish without a trace, while eager recruits are sprinting to neighboring cities that actually know how to use the internet and have the decency to pick up the phone.
In a dramatic turn of events, the Council voted 7-0 to reclaim their authority to hire, only for Stone to veto the decision. Undeterred, the Council swiftly overrode this veto, 6-1.
Council Vice President Melody Magee was the sole dissenting vote, suggesting the council wait for the new Police Commissioner to take office. This left Stone to respond with a nonchalant shrug and a dismissive remark that she’s still the one calling the shots.
Meanwhile, a judge has had enough of the mayor’s antics and is demanding that Stone stop playing hide-and-seek with the local press. And just when you think it couldn’t get any juicier, there’s a city council subpoena regarding the Compensation Commission that has everyone on edge.
In a last-minute scramble to dodge the embarrassment of facing City Council, Stone hands over the records, all while insisting she never even wanted a raise in the first place.
In this circus, the clowns are running the show.
The streets are loud with outrage, and the recent passage of the 2025 public safety millage has done little to quell the discontent among taxpayers.
Stone takes the stage for her State of the City address, beaming with pride as she announces a 9% drop in violent crime, as if she single-handedly wrestled the city’s gun-toting miscreants into submission. Her fans hail her as a revolutionary reformer, the fearless knight battling the dragons of the “old guard.”
Meanwhile, her critics brand her an “absentee leader,” accusing her of dragging her feet, leaving everyone wondering if Stone is the savior they’ve been waiting for or just another politician playing the game.
The Warren Police Department is still short at least 20 police officers, a gaping hole in the fabric of law enforcement that leaves the community feeling a bit like a ship without a captain. Meanwhile, the Land Bank lawsuit looms over us like a dark cloud, a fresh wound that refuses to heal.
Warren has a mayor championing a so-called “modernization,” while the City Council clings to its notion of “sanity,” which is rapidly becoming a rare commodity.
The only clear winner in this chaotic showdown? A battalion of lawyers whose fees are rising faster than the city’s sewage levels as they prepare for a courtroom drama to unfold.
In this bizarre game of chicken, it seems the only thing getting a level up is the legal team, while the rest of the city holds its breath, hoping not to drown in the mess.
Frank A. Fiorello is a contributing writer for Michigan Enjoyer.
