Lorain County’s Financial Illusion, Part Two: What Comes Next and Why It Matters
After the Shell Game: The True Cost of Lorain County’s Financial Choices
Oct 16, 2025
By Aaron C. Knapp, LSW, with analysis by Kathryn Kennedy, MBA, CPA (Inactive)
I. Payroll Inflation and the Structural Deficit
When the federal relief money arrived, Lorain County had a once-in-a-generation opportunity to repair itself. Instead, it raised its own cost of living.
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The American Rescue Plan Act delivered 59.2 million dollars in total aid between 2021 and 2022. It was designed to be temporary relief, one-time money for one-time problems. By the end of 2024, the county had used it as recurring revenue.
“Using one-time funds to cover continuing expenses is never advisable and contributes to the expected budget deficit for 2026.”
Kathryn Kennedy, MBA, CPA (Inactive)
Her warning was not theoretical. It was arithmetic.
In 2021, Lorain County’s payroll stood at $102.1 million.
In 2023, it reached $113.5 million.
In 2024, $119.8 million.
By 2025, it is projected to exceed $131 million.
That represents an increase of nearly 30 percent in four years, far beyond inflation, population growth, or service expansion.
During that same period, the number of county employees earning $100,000 or more more than doubled, rising from 65 to 154. Once those wages increased, they stayed increased. When the federal pipeline ran dry, the General Fund had to absorb the difference.
Departments that received temporary payroll boosts during the ARPA years were not reduced when the funding ended. They were normalized. Supervisors planned future budgets around inflated staffing levels and recurring raises that could no longer be sustained without outside money.
“In the private sector, wages typically increase about two percent annually.”
Kathryn Kennedy, financial analysis report, 2025
Lorain County’s increase averaged closer to seven percent. Kennedy identified this as the single largest driver of the county’s projected 2026 deficit.
Commissioners continue to describe the problem as inflation, supply costs, or rising health-care expenses. But the data shows otherwise. The majority of the increase comes from payroll inflation, a problem that began when ARPA funds were treated as permanent income instead of temporary aid.
ARPA temporarily hid the imbalance, but it did not fix it. It made it worse.
By turning relief dollars into salary dollars, the county effectively rewrote its own baseline expenses upward. When those funds vanished, the gap between revenue and cost was locked in.
“It appears the budget issues may be directly attributed to the large increases in wages and salaries.”
Kennedy’s fiscal review, March 2025
This is not fiscal misfortune. It is fiscal design.
The deficit now being discussed in public meetings is not the result of market pressure or unforeseen hardship. It is the result of decisions made by people who knew the money would run out but spent it anyway.
What began as a temporary stimulus became a structural liability. Lorain County did not grow its economy. It grew its payroll. And now that the federal relief has evaporated, the cost of that growth is coming due, with taxpayers asked to make up the difference.
II. The Mega-Site and the Realignment of Priorities
As the payroll ballooned, Lorain County’s focus drifted from basic operations to grand ambitions. By 2024, commissioners were no longer talking about repairing old systems or balancing long-term costs. They were talking about the Mega-Site.
The so-called “Mega-Site” was pitched as an economic development engine, a large-scale industrial hub that would attract manufacturing and technology investment. The county promised new jobs, tax revenue, and the chance to compete on a regional level. The problem was not the concept. The problem was the cost.
Documents show that money originally allocated for essential services, including jail construction and public safety capital needs, was gradually reclassified and redirected toward planning, consulting, and site preparation related to the Mega-Site. Those same funds were later used to justify claims that the county faced an unavoidable shortfall.
“In effect, the county does have the funds for the sheriff’s office and jail operations, but it appears they want to use General Fund dollars for mega-site development.”
Kathryn Kennedy, financial review, 2025
The decision to prioritize speculative development over fiscal stability turned what should have been a period of financial strength into a period of risk. Every dollar shifted toward the Mega-Site was a dollar that no longer existed in the operating budget. The county called it investment. Kennedy called it a diversion.
The Mega-Site became a convenient talking point for political gain. Commissioners framed it as the future of Lorain County, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that required flexibility and “creative financing.” But the numbers tell a different story. The site has produced no major tenants, no tax-generating development, and no measurable return on the millions in preliminary costs.
What it has produced is a long list of consultants, contractors, and politically connected firms paid to study, plan, and promote a project that has yet to exist beyond the press releases.
The timing is critical. The same period that saw ballooning payroll and the mall loan also saw the expansion of spending tied to the Mega-Site initiative. Instead of scaling back or reassessing priorities, leadership doubled down on its most expensive vision.
“The county was never out of money. It simply stopped spending it on what mattered most.”
Kennedy’s closing note, 2025 summary memo
Citizens began to notice the pattern. Departments that once operated comfortably were told to tighten their budgets. Line workers were blamed for “structural pressures.” Public employees were asked to sacrifice while developers were invited to strategy meetings about land that the public had not approved for sale.
By 2025, the county’s financial narrative was rewritten entirely. Officials no longer spoke about ARPA, payroll growth, or the mall loan. They spoke instead about “opportunity,” “economic positioning,” and “long-term value.” Those phrases replaced accountability with aspiration.
The shift from public service to public relations was complete. The commissioners had learned that hope sold better than math.
The Mega-Site has become a symbol of that strategy. It represents a future built on projections, not performance, and on borrowed credibility instead of real progress. If it succeeds, the county will claim victory. If it fails, the taxpayers will absorb the loss.
Lorain County no longer measures success by fiscal responsibility. It measures it by press coverage.
“Economic development is not a substitute for responsible budgeting. It is supposed to follow it.”
Kennedy, correspondence to Lorain Politics Unplugged, April 2025
The Mega-Site is not a development plan. It is a distraction, one that has allowed county leaders to delay accountability while claiming innovation. What began as a promise of growth now stands as a monument to misaligned priorities.
Drive through Lorain County today and you will see the story written on the lawns. Hand-painted signs and printed placards line the roads near the proposed Mega-Site. They are not welcoming signs. They are warnings.
III. Political Spin and the Erosion of Trust
The political sales pitch for the Mega-Site was built on optimism. It promised jobs, tax revenue, and a new era of development. What it has produced instead is resistance.
Drive through the southern parts of Lorain County today and the signs tell the story. Hand-painted placards reading “Save New Russia Township and Surrounding Areas” line the roads. Residents are organizing petitions, attending zoning meetings, and trading updates online about how to stop what they see as an unwanted land grab.
One resident, Jessica Stemen, asked a simple question on social media:
“What can we do to make sure the Mega-Site doesn’t come to Lorain County? Is it just voting no on November 4?”
Her post drew dozens of responses. Others echoed the same frustration.
Patricia Cindric wrote that she was still getting requests for more signs and that she planned to gather signatures for a petition. Wayne Black urged her to come through South Amherst with petitions, while others debated which township jurisdictions had authority to act.
Kim Stegbauer Polen offered the most practical advice:
“There isn’t a vote at this time. The best you can do now is call and email county commissioners, state reps, TeamNEO, JobsOhio, and township trustees to tell them we don’t support the Mega-Site coming to Lorain County.”
The comments reflect a simple truth. The county’s messaging may have sold the project as progress, but the public sees it as intrusion.
What once looked like a unified push for “economic opportunity” has become a public relations problem. The same residents who supported recovery and growth during the ARPA years are now questioning how those funds were used and who stands to benefit from the new development push.
“It will take a lawsuit,” one commenter wrote. The tone was not radical. It was resigned.
That frustration is spreading beyond township lines. Conversations that once took place quietly in zoning offices are now filling community meetings and Facebook threads. Residents are not opposing progress. They are opposing secrecy.
This is the predictable result of years of half-truths and selective transparency. When officials frame every spending decision as an “investment,” even when there is no measurable return, they erode public trust in every future initiative. The Mega-Site has become the symbol of that erosion.
The county still insists the project will bring growth and stability. Yet its own records show that millions of dollars are already committed to site preparation and consulting before a single tenant has agreed to locate there.
The public sees a different pattern — one where political influence and public money continue to converge in the same familiar places.
Kennedy’s summary of the situation feels prophetic now:
“When the public loses faith in the numbers, it loses faith in the leadership. Fiscal credibility is not a resource that can be borrowed back once it is spent.”
The lawns across New Russia Township and South Amherst have become the new barometer of that credibility. Every sign that says “Save Our Township” is a reminder that people are paying attention again.
The county can call that politics if it wants to. But to those who live near the land being sold off in the name of progress, it looks a lot more like betrayal.
IV. The Road to Financial Ruin
By the fall of 2025, Lorain County was not just facing a budget problem. It was facing a credibility crisis.
The same officials who claimed there was no money for deputies, maintenance, or infrastructure were simultaneously celebrating new funding and expansion plans for the Mega-Site. To residents, the contradiction was obvious. To leadership, it was just another talking point.
“We’re building the foundation and we’re opening up our doors and rolling out the red carpet, saying we’re now ready,”
said County Commissioner Dave Moore, speaking to News 5 Cleveland in July.
That red carpet rolled directly over farmland.
The state of Ohio awarded $67 million in new infrastructure funding to prepare roughly 1,000 acres north and west of the Lorain County Airport for “shovel-ready” development. The land is being marketed through Team NEO, an economic development organization now recruiting major industrial users for the site.
Team NEO’s Christine Nelson described it as a generational opportunity.
“High-tech manufacturing that’s going to get us into the next 50 to 100 years,” she said. “Chip manufacturing could be something like that.”
But for the families who live near the site, that vision feels more like a takeover.
Local farmer Steve Jackson told News 5,
“It’s taken me 38 years to build what I have at my house. It’s taken my in-laws generations to build it. This is devastating because it’s going to radically change the northern end of the township.”
Jackson’s home sits near the proposed expansion zone in New Russia Township, where residents are now organizing petitions and roadside campaigns to stop further land acquisition. The county calls it generational progress. Neighbors call it displacement.
“There’s plenty of industrial property around here that could be rehabilitated. Why would you want to ruin this?”
— Steve Jackson, News 5 Cleveland, September 2025
Opposition signs reading “Save New Russia Township and Surrounding Areas” now line the roads leading into South Amherst and the rural sections of Elyria Township. Citizens like Patricia Cindric and Kim Stegbauer Polen are gathering signatures and urging residents to contact commissioners, Team NEO, and state officials. Their movement began as a few Facebook posts. It has now become a visible, countywide protest.
The scope of the project continues to grow. Team NEO’s Nelson said that acquiring even more acreage could make Lorain County’s site “the most competitive in the country.”
“Two thousand acres would set us apart from every other site in the United States, not just the state,” she said.
That statement alarmed residents already reeling from the first phase. If 1,000 acres threaten the township’s rural character, 2,000 would erase it entirely.
The fiscal irony is that while the county insists it cannot fund public safety without new taxes, it is committing millions to expand infrastructure for a project that has not attracted a single tenant. The same commissioners who claimed they were “out of options” have somehow found endless options when it comes to speculative development.
This pattern — borrowing credibility from the future to pay for political gain today — is what Kennedy calls the illusion of prosperity.
“Short-term expansion creates long-term deficit,” she wrote in her final assessment. “It is not growth. It is deferred cost.”
The Mega-Site is more than a zoning dispute. It is a financial gamble disguised as progress. The more the county invests in it, the deeper the long-term deficit becomes. Roads, utilities, and maintenance all require continuing funding, none of which is guaranteed by the state grant.
Every new pipe or road built for the project is a future expense the county must maintain. And every acre taken from farmland is one less acre generating tax stability or agricultural revenue.
“Until we can get some kind of remediation of these older industrial sites, this is prime farmland,” Nelson told News 5. Her comment was intended as an explanation. To residents, it sounded like a justification for erasing their community.
The long-term cost is not just financial. It is social. It is the steady erosion of trust in leadership that no longer seems to represent the people it governs.
Lorain County once used its surplus to strengthen its foundations. Now, it uses its credibility to sell its future.
The road to financial ruin is not paved in debt. It is paved in denial.
Final Thought: The Price of Denial
Lorain County’s story is no longer just about numbers. It is about the erosion of honesty at the highest levels of local government and the taxpayers left standing in the wreckage.
For years, the same officials who speak of progress have quietly rewritten the county’s financial foundation, shifting from solvency to speculation, from budgeting to branding. Each decision, from the misuse of ARPA funds to the 13.9 million dollar mall loan and now the expansion of the Mega-Site, follows the same pattern: take from stability, invest in illusion, and hope no one notices the debt of trust accumulating in the background.
What began as opportunity has turned into obligation. Federal relief became permanent payroll. Public safety money became real estate leverage. Fiscal accountability became political theater.
And every time the consequences come due, the story changes. New press releases, new slogans, new scapegoats. But the arithmetic does not lie. You can rename a deficit, but you cannot rebrand insolvency.
Kathryn Kennedy’s financial analyses exposed this cycle in plain language:
“Short-term expansion creates long-term deficit. It is not growth. It is deferred cost.”
That sentence is the epitaph of this administration’s legacy. The deficit Lorain County faces today is not a surprise. It is a choice that was made repeatedly, consciously, and without transparency.
Citizens across the townships are now seeing what the ledgers have been saying all along. Hand-painted protest signs have become audit statements in their own right, declaring a truth that leadership refuses to acknowledge: the county’s financial crisis was manufactured, not inherited. It was not caused by inflation or state policy or the economy. It was caused by hubris.
The commissioners have traded stewardship for showmanship, replacing prudent management with press conferences and PowerPoints. They call it vision. But real vision does not bankrupt the future to pay for today’s applause.
It does not roll a red carpet over farmland and call it prosperity. It does not call a shortfall “structural” when it was self-inflicted.
Lorain County is not running out of money. It is running out of credibility. And once credibility is gone, there is no federal bailout that can restore it.
“When the public loses faith in the numbers, it loses faith in the leadership. Fiscal credibility is not a resource that can be borrowed back once it is spent.”
— Kathryn Kennedy, 2025
The question now is whether voters will continue to accept this cycle as normal or finally decide that progress without honesty is no progress at all.
Lorain County once stood as an example of Midwestern prudence: modest budgets, careful spending, and transparent governance. What stands now is something far different, a government so addicted to its own talking points that it can no longer tell the truth about its own balance sheet.
The road to recovery, if there is one, begins not with more spending or new slogans but with accountability. It begins when residents realize that the red carpet is not being rolled out for them. It is being rolled over them.
Until that happens, Lorain County will keep mistaking illusion for leadership, and the taxpayers will keep paying the price of denial.
See Kathryn Kennedy’s Analysis Here
Authorship and Transparency
Written by Aaron C. Knapp, LSW, for Lorain Politics Unplugged
with financial analysis by Kathryn Kennedy, MBA, CPA (Inactive)
All data, quotes, and figures are drawn from verified public records, budget documents, and publicly available media reports.
Artificial intelligence tools were used solely for research organization, editorial layout support, and image generation.
All writing, conclusions, and commentary are original.
All AI-generated images are conceptual political cartoons created to illustrate verified events and themes. They do not depict real individuals and are used for journalistic and educational purposes.
Legal Disclaimer
This publication is for educational and journalistic purposes under Ohio Revised Code 149.43 and the principles of public oversight.
It does not constitute legal, financial, or professional advice.
Readers are encouraged to examine the referenced documents independently and to draw their own conclusions from the evidence presented.
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