Political corruption is not just a relic of the past—it’s alive, thriving, and wearing a new face in Union City, New Jersey. The story of Boss Tweed and Tammany Hall may have played out in the 19th century, but its blueprint has been shamelessly resurrected in Hudson County under the iron grip of Mayor and State Senator Brian Stack. The same system of political favoritism, backroom deals, patronage jobs, and retaliation against dissent is on full display—this time masquerading under a Democratic-Communist government that operates without meaningful accountability.

Tammany Hall: The Original Political Machine

In the mid-1800s, William “Boss” Tweed built a political empire through Tammany Hall, New York City’s most notorious Democratic political machine. Tweed’s power didn’t come from good governance—it came from controlling jobs, police departments, firehouses, public contracts, and immigrant communities, especially the Irish and Italian working class.

The Irish and Italian immigrants, desperate for work and community support, were given jobs in exchange for political loyalty. Tweed’s machine handed out city employment, legal protection, and even expedited immigration services to those who promised to keep the votes flowing. The price? Rampant graft, institutional corruption, election rigging, and the theft of millions of dollars in taxpayer money.

Tweed’s story is often treated as ancient history. But the playbook he wrote is still in use today—just across the Hudson River.

Union City: A Modern-Day Tammany Hall

Union City, a North Hudson community built by immigrant hands—first German, then Irish and Italian, and now predominantly Latino—has been plagued by political machines for decades. The history of corruption in Union City is as old as the city itself.

The William Musto Era

In the 1970s, William Musto, then mayor and state senator, was the undisputed kingpin of Union City. He built a political empire by controlling public works, housing, and municipal jobs. Much like Boss Tweed, Musto’s reign relied on trading jobs and favors for votes, a system that spread its tentacles into the police and fire departments.

Musto was eventually convicted of racketeering and bribery in 1982, but not before shaping his political heir: Brian Stack.

Brian Stack: The Apprentice Who Perfected the Machine

Brian Stack learned from the best. He perfected the Tammany-style machine with a modern twist. In Union City today, municipal resources, police support, housing services, and even promotions in the fire and police departments are reportedly handed out as political favors. You are either loyal to Brian Stack or you are frozen out.

Stack has built his empire on fear, favoritism, and complete control of the city’s resources. Those who dare to oppose him face retaliation, job loss, or worse—legal harassment. Whistleblowers and victims have come forward with serious accusations, claiming that Stack’s allies in the police and municipal government engage in intimidation tactics to silence critics.

In many ways, Union City under Stack has become a Democratic-Communist fiefdom. Dissent is not tolerated. Municipal assets are treated as the personal property of the political elite. City vehicles are reportedly used for private favors. Grants and housing assistance seem to flow directly to Stack’s loyalists.

This is not democracy. This is a political cartel masquerading as a local government.

The Irish and Italian Roots of the Machine

It’s impossible to ignore the historical thread that connects New York City and North Hudson. The Irish and Italian immigrant communities, who originally populated the firehouses and police stations of New York, expanded into Jersey City, Hoboken, West New York, and Union City. The tradition of political patronage, especially in municipal services like police and fire departments, crossed the Hudson and took root in New Jersey’s urban political culture.

Today, those same networks of influence persist—just serving a new master.

Brian Stack’s Unchecked Power

Brian Stack has operated for years without serious legal consequences. Just like William Musto, just like Boss Tweed, Stack’s machine depends on controlling every lever of government: housing, police, schools, and public services. Multiple reports and whistleblowers have alleged corruption, abuse of power, election interference, and even the cover-up of sexual assault cases within Union City’s political structure.

The Hudson County Prosecutor’s Office and New Jersey Attorney General Matt Platkin have been accused by activists of turning a blind eye, perhaps even colluding in the silence.

Where is the accountability? The last time Union City faced real justice, it took William Musto going to jail.

Will history repeat itself?

A Call to Action

Union City deserves better than a political dynasty built on fear, favors, and the selective distribution of justice. The Irish and Italian immigrants who helped build this region worked for a better future—not for their legacy to be hijacked by another Democratic-Communist political machine that consolidates power for the benefit of a few.

Brian Stack’s operation isn’t just political dominance—it’s a modern Tammany Hall. The city’s fire and police departments should not be tools of political currency. Public resources should not be distributed based on loyalty to the mayor.

Union City is trapped in a cycle of institutional corruption that dates back generations. Breaking that cycle will require more than political slogans—it will demand courageous whistleblowers, federal investigations, and public servants who refuse to kneel before the machine.

Because if history teaches us anything, it’s this:

Political machines only collapse when the people rise against them.

June 27, 2025

The very agency tasked with rooting out corruption in New Jersey has now been caught engaging in what appears to be a shocking act of self-protection and possible evidence tampering.

According to a bombshell report from the New Jersey Globe, the Office of Public Integrity and Accountability (OPIA)—a division under the New Jersey Attorney General’s office—intentionally destroyed work-issued cell phones belonging to three of their own lead investigators in a major political corruption case. These phones contained key text messages that were never preserved, despite active discovery requests dating back as far as 2020.

Let that sink in: the watchdogs destroyed their own evidence.

🚨 OPIA’s Stunning Disregard for Justice

The corruption case in question involved former Assemblyman Jason O’Donnell, accused of accepting cash in a sting operation tied to pay-to-play politics in Bayonne. But now, thanks to the OPIA’s actions, the focus has shifted from the defendant to the prosecutors themselves.

In court filings, defense attorney Leo Hurley described the destruction of these phones as a direct threat to the constitutional rights of the accused. The wiped devices belonged to OPIA investigators Michael Fallon, Ho Chul Shin, and Brian Powers—key players in the sting operation whose communications could have held critical exculpatory or procedural information.

Adding to the embarrassment, a fourth phone remains missing entirely, its investigator reportedly on military leave.

How does this happen in an office supposedly dedicated to public integrity?

🔥 A Pattern of Incompetence, Corruption, and Political Cover-Ups

Let’s not pretend this is an isolated incident. The OPIA, since its creation, has been repeatedly accused of being more of a political weapon than a justice-seeking body. Critics across both political parties have raised serious concerns about the unit’s lack of accountability, its tendency to selectively prosecute, and now, its apparent willingness to destroy evidence when it suits them.

The New Jersey Attorney General’s office—headed by Matt Platkin—has yet to provide a credible explanation as to why these devices were wiped long after discovery obligations were established. Instead, the response from the state has been muted, bureaucratic, and frankly, insulting to the intelligence of the New Jersey public.

Where is the urgency? Where is the independent oversight? Why are the people who claim to be cleaning up corruption allowed to operate in the shadows without consequence?

🔗 The Corruption Network: Bayonne to the Sheriff’s Department

As this story unfolds, it coincides with another troubling development in Hudson County: Bayonne Mayor Jimmy Davis has just won the Democratic primary for Hudson County Sheriff, defeating five-term incumbent Frank Schillari.

Let’s be clear—Davis does not bring a reputation of reform. He brings a well-known track record of scandals and possible corruption. Given that the original pay-to-play corruption in Bayonne was exposed under his watch, it is not a stretch to assume that this same culture of backroom deals and political favoritism could now spread directly into the sheriff’s department once Davis is sworn in.

Even more concerning, Davis was heavily backed by none other than the already scandal-ridden Union City Mayor and State Senator Brian Stack, a figure deeply entrenched in the Hudson County political machine.

This isn’t just about Bayonne anymore. The web of corruption appears to be tightening its grip on key law enforcement positions, potentially reaching deeper into Hudson County and the state government itself. The OPIA’s destruction of evidence in the O’Donnell case now seems less like a tragic error and more like business as usual in a county where the political machine’s influence is vast, unchecked, and dangerously interconnected.

⚖️ Systemic Breakdown

When law enforcement agencies destroy their own evidence, it doesn’t just undermine a single case—it undermines the entire justice system.

How many other investigations have been quietly compromised by OPIA’s incompetence or, worse, deliberate misconduct? How many political careers have been protected because of phones that suddenly went missing or files that mysteriously disappeared?

This is not about partisan politics—this is about the basic expectation that those who enforce the law must also follow it.

🚨 Immediate Federal Investigation Needed

The people of New Jersey deserve more than carefully worded press releases and half-hearted internal reviews. This situation demands an immediate, independent, federal investigation.

The destruction of evidence by the OPIA reeks of a cover-up and points to a systemic rot inside the very agency tasked with protecting the public trust. The Attorney General’s office should not be allowed to police itself—especially not now.

New Jersey has a long and painful history of corruption. With Jimmy Davis now set to control the Hudson County Sheriff’s Office, backed by political powerbrokers like Brian Stack, we may be witnessing a dangerous new chapter where the reach of the Hudson County political machine extends even further into law enforcement and state government.

The next court hearing in the O’Donnell case is scheduled for October 21, but New Jerseyans shouldn’t wait until then to demand answers.

We must ask:

Who watches the watchdogs? And who is protecting them?

Liberty State Park / Jersey City

More than two decades after the tragic events of September 11, 2001, New Jersey proudly repeats the words: We Will Never Forget. Yet, the state’s complete disregard for the original construction plans and long-term maintenance of the Empty Sky Memorial in Liberty State Park tells a very different story—one that reeks of neglect, broken promises, and government indifference.

A Memorial Left to Decay

The Empty Sky Memorial was meant to be a solemn, enduring tribute to the 746 New Jersey residents who perished in both the 1993 and 2001 attacks. It was thoughtfully designed by architects Jessica Jamroz and Frederic Schwartz to align with Ground Zero and stand as a place of reflection and remembrance.

But what was promised is not what was delivered.

The memorial’s exterior was supposed to be a striking architectural concrete—a surface worthy of the lives it honors. Instead, in typical fashion, the state cut corners to save costs, opting for a bland, industrial concrete that looks nothing like the renderings approved years ago. The design was cheapened, and the result is a visual insult to those we vowed to remember forever.

Even worse, maintenance has been an afterthought at best. Over time, the site has become worn, weathered, and largely ignored by the very officials who once stood at podiums promising eternal vigilance and care.

New Jersey’s Hypocrisy on Full Display

The words We Will Never Forget have been stamped on license plates, banners, and political speeches—but what are they really worth when the state can’t even honor the most basic commitment to preserve the dignity of the memorial?

The Empty Sky Memorial should be pristine. It should be sacred. Instead, it stands as a symbol of neglect, as if the state of New Jersey has quietly moved on, comfortably assuming that the public won’t notice or care. But the families of the victims notice. Veterans notice. First responders notice. And many New Jerseyans notice.

How dare we preach about remembrance when the physical space meant to embody that remembrance has been allowed to deteriorate?

Where’s the Accountability?

The Department of Environmental Protection and other responsible state agencies have had years to correct these issues. Years to deliver on what was promised. Years to uphold the sacred duty of stewardship for this site. Yet nothing has changed.

Where are the emergency funds when it comes to preserving this hallowed ground? Where is the same urgency and attention that politicians give to their press conferences and photo ops?

The fact is, if this were a new development project or a park in a more politically convenient location, it would have been fixed yesterday.

The State Needs to Make This Right—Now

It is time for the state of New Jersey to stop dishonoring the victims, their families, and the thousands of first responders who answered the call that day. This memorial is not just a tourist site—it is sacred ground. The state must immediately allocate the resources necessary to restore the memorial to its intended standard and ensure that its upkeep is a permanent priority, not an afterthought.

The phrase Never Forget should mean something more than words. Right now, New Jersey is sending the message that it already has.