Recognition is powerful. Accountability is even more powerful.

On July 9, 2026, I received a proclamation from the New Orleans City Council recognizing the 16 years of work I’ve done in the community through Youth Rebuilding New Orleans (YRNO). The proclamation was presented through the office of Councilmember Eugene Green. 

I appreciate the significance of being recognized for the work, but I can’t ignore what preceded it. 

I am not ungrateful: I am so honored. Like many public servants, I know what it means to pour your time, energy and heart into a city and how wonderful it feels to have that work publicly acknowledged. 

But the recognition didn’t turn out to be that public. Earlier that day, I was told that they had moved my award proclamation out of the City Council meeting. Instead, it happened more quietly before the meeting — and I can’t stop thinking about why. 

I was given no reason when my time was shifted. I believe that happened because, for the last three months, I’ve been asking the City of New Orleans for something else that’s important to me: Accountability. 

You may have seen my name in the news lately. On GiveNOLA day, just a few months ago, I was linked to a crime I didn’t commit based on inaccurate information provided to NOPD by Caesar’s Casino. In short, facial-recognition technology called me a criminal, and I’ve been trying to clear my name ever since. 

This wasn’t just a bad experience, it was an experience that should never happen to any person. I was publicly linked to a false allegation that caused real consequences, damaging my reputation, calling into question my character of a man, straining my relationships, jeopardizing my good work — and hurting an organization, YRNO, that built trust in the community. 

When something happened that put that trust at risk, I expected my city and the mayor’s office to take the concern seriously. 

I reached out. I wrote letters. People wrote letters on my behalf. I asked for conversations. 

I asked for accountability. And for too long, there was silence. 

I hired a lawyer. What did I want? An apology, and accountability. 

No one really acknowledged my concerns and did not get a response from the mayor’s administration. It took someone from my church who personally knew Councilmember Green to bring attention to what I was experiencing. 

That’s disappointing. 

Not because I believe I deserve special treatment, but because every New Orleanian deserves to know that when something goes wrong, somebody is willing to listen. 

That is where my experience at City Council became bigger than just the proclamation. 

Only two members of the City Council were present when I received it. As I was leaving, other council members were beginning to arrive. Some acknowledged how terrible the situation was for me, and that they all said they were with me. Of course, those were just words — just like the proclamation itself. 

But that’s not the problem: the problem was the contrast. 

Here I was being publicly recognized for serving my community while privately trying to get that same community’s leadership to acknowledge a serious concern affecting my name and livelihood. 

When my recognition was shifted, I didn’t know why. Maybe it was for time purposes. But I also wonder whether they were worried about my statement, in which I called out Caesars, NOPD, and our leadership for failing that basic human response: an apology. Another group receiving a proclamation that day was a high school group promoting the use of artificial intelligence.

That caught my attention because my own experience involves concerns surrounding facial recognition technology. That technology almost cost me everything — all because nobody did the human work that law enforcement is supposed to be doing to protect all of us, to implement safeguards that consistently protect us, from this new and relatively untested technology. 

I want to be clear: I’m not against technology. 

I’m against moving forward with powerful technology without asking powerful questions. 

Technology can be an incredible tool. AI can create opportunities for our young people, businesses and communities. But as we embrace these tools, we also have to be honest about what happens when they fail. 

Who checks the information? 

Who verifies the identification? 

Who is responsible when the technology gets it wrong? And what happens to the person who gets caught in that mistake? Those are not anti-technology questions.

Those are accountability questions. 

And I believe New Orleans should be willing to have them. My request is simple: 

Before someone’s face or name is publicly connected to an alleged crime, there should be a thorough investigation and credible evidence. 

And when mistakes happen, agencies should be just as committed to correcting them as they were to making the accusation. 

That’s not anti-police. 

That’s pro-accountability. 

That’s not anti-technology. 

That’s pro-responsibility. 

And that’s not anti-New Orleans. 

That’s believing New Orleans can do better.

I have dedicated much of my life to helping rebuild this city through YRNO. I have worked alongside young people because I believe they deserve reasons to believe — in their city, in their future, and in themselves.  

That’s why I’m approaching this situation the same way. I’m not interested in simply pointing fingers. 

I’m interested in solutions. 

I’m interested in policy changes. 

I’m interested in better safeguards. 

I’m interested in making sure the next person doesn’t have to spend months fighting to get someone to acknowledge that a mistake was made. 

And I’m disappointed in how the City of New Orleans handled this. I expected more. 

Not because I’m entitled to anything — but because I know what this city asks of people who serve it. 

We are constantly told to show up for our communities. To volunteer. 

To mentor. 

To rebuild. 

To invest. 

To care. 

I have done those things. 

So when a community leader finds himself in a situation where  his own name and reputation are at stake, I believe the city should be willing to show up too. 

That’s what leadership means to me. 

The proclamation was a recognition of work I’ve already done. Accountability is about the work we still have left to do. And I believe both can exist at the same time. I can appreciate being recognized while still being disappointed in how my city handled me. 

I can be proud of the work I’ve done while still demanding better from the institutions around me. 

And I can believe in New Orleans while telling New Orleans the truth. Because that’s what community leadership looks like.