When citizens attend a city council meeting — or even just watch one online — they expect that what they see and hear will become part of the authoritative public record. They assume that the official minutes, approved in public session, will truthfully summarize what took place. That expectation should be sacrosanct in a civil government.
But in Lynchburg, that expectation has been shaken.
At a recent meeting, Councilwoman Reed stated from the dais, “Our attorney looked through [the minutes], agreed. Nothing was left out. Nothing was misrepresented.” Moments later, Councilman Misjuns expressed surprise and asked directly, “Did you help the clerk review the minutes?” City Attorney Matthew Freedman replied, “I checked to make sure whether or not when she asked if something was material to a vote or a motion and gave my legal opinion on it.” Multiple council member minutes addition requests were subsequently denied for not being material to a vote.
That single exchange revealed something crucial: The city attorney, who had provided disputed legal advice during a major budget debate, later advised the clerk of council on whether that very discussion was “material” enough to include in the minutes. It was excluded.
In other words, the source of the bad legal advice became the editor of the public record. And the truth was purged.
This revelation is not a matter of petty politics or personality. It goes to the heart of accountability in public service. The conversation that was omitted concerned legal guidance on how the city should handle its real-estate tax rate — a discussion that influenced votes and carried millions of dollars in consequences for the people. The Magic Tax increase is alive and well. When the same legal official whose advice shaped the decision also influenced whether that advice appeared in the written public record, the conflict of interest is obvious and troubling.
What followed only deepened concern. Within days, both the city attorney and the clerk issued written statements denying that any such collaboration occurred. The clerk stated that her office “independently compiles” the minutes and that the attorney “does not oversee or direct” their content. Yet the meeting video tells a different story — one that the public can now see for themselves. (About the 1:18:00 mark.)
This contradiction matters because the integrity of our record is the foundation of public trust. When a civil government begins to “curate” history — deciding which facts are too inconvenient to include — it ceases to serve the people and starts to serve itself.
George Orwell captured this danger in “1984,” where the “Ministry of Truth” did not tell truth at all. It rewrote it. Every inconvenient fact, every uncomfortable conversation, every embarrassing misstep was erased from the record and replaced with a more palatable bureaucrat-approved version of reality. “Who controls the past controls the future,” Orwell warned. “Who controls the present controls the past.”
The comparison is uncomfortable, but it’s instructive. No local government should ever allow a “ministry of truth” mentality to creep into its proceedings — especially not through the quiet manipulation of meeting minutes. The people’s record belongs to the people, not to staff, not to lawyers and not to political majorities.
The minutes are not a public relations document. They are a legal record — a factual ledger of what was said, done and decided on behalf of the people. Any attempt to filter or edit that record for optics is an affront to open government and the Freedom of Information Act’s spirit of transparency.
I have respectfully asked that this issue be discussed at our next city council work session. My goal is not to rehash old disagreements but to ensure clear boundaries moving forward. The clerk of council must remain independent. The city attorney must advise on law, not on which parts of our discussions deserve to survive in the authoritative written public record. And the council must affirm that minutes belong to the legislative body — not to any single staff office. The minority voices should not be silenced. The minutes should never be the product of history rewriting, bureaucratic collusion or tyrannical censorship by the majority.
Trust in government begins with truth. When the record itself becomes negotiable, public confidence collapses. The people deserve transparency, not selective memory.
The truth doesn’t need protection. It needs preservation.
Curt Diemer is vice mayor of Lynchburg.
