You May Not Like Property Taxes — But You’ll Hate What Happens Without Them

Why the 2026 County Elections in Kentucky Could Make or Break Your Community

2026 isn’t just another election year, it’s a wake-up call. Across Kentucky, nearly every county-level seat is up for election: Judge Executives, County Commissioners, Fiscal Court members, City Council members, School Board representatives, County Clerks, and even local judges.

These aren't figureheads. These are the people making day-to-day decisions about how your roads are maintained, how fast emergency services respond, how your kids’ schools are staffed, and how your community is funded.

The time to get to know who these people are, and what they believe is not the week before Election Day. It’s now. Because some of the candidates stepping up in 2026 have platforms that could burn your community to the ground, all while telling you it’s in the name of “freedom.”

And if you live in Boone County, pay especially close attention. One of the hot-button issues already brewing is property taxes, and some folks are playing a dangerous game with your future.

Property Taxes: The Unsexy Backbone of Civilization

No one throws a parade for property taxes. They’re easy to resent. But the reason you don’t think about them every day is because they work. They quietly fund the essentials that keep your community livable. Without them, your quality of life doesn't gradually decline it collapses.

Property taxes pay for public schools, police and sheriff’s departments, fire and EMS services, county road maintenance, libraries, senior centers, health departments, and animal shelters. They’re not luxury items; they are the core infrastructure of a functional community.

Boone County’s Warning Sign: A Doggone Bad Decision

In Boone County, we’ve already seen what happens when critical revenue gets eliminated. This year, under pressure from Commissioner Chet Hand, the county removed the dog licensing program, a quiet but vital stream of funding that supported the local animal shelter.

Chet claimed it was a win for liberty. In reality, it was a short-sighted stunt that undermined a public service most people never realized they relied on.

Boone County’s animal shelter doesn’t just take in strays. It prevents diseases, helps control overpopulation, reunites lost pets with families, and assists law enforcement in cruelty investigations. It’s the reason you rarely see roaming packs of dogs or hear about outbreaks of parvo or rabies. It’s not magic, it’s management. Funded management.

And when Chet Hand said people could “just donate” to make up the gap? That’s not how public service works. Donations are helpful, but they are unreliable, inequitable, and often too little, too late. Try running a shelter on bake sale money and watch what happens when kitten season hits or an abuse case floods the system with 40 neglected animals.

You Want a Glimpse of the Future? Look at Van Horn, Texas.

If you want to know what happens when anti-tax rhetoric wins and leadership caves, look no further than Van Horn, Texas.

In an effort to reduce taxes and shrink government, Van Horn cut deep into its property tax structure without creating any reliable replacement. The results were as disastrous as they were predictable.

The volunteer fire department ran out of fuel money. When a home caught fire, it was neighbors with garden hoses, not firefighters who responded.

The local library closed permanently, cutting off internet access, homework help, and literacy programs for the entire town.

The police force was reduced to two part-time officers, leading to hours-long response times and, in some cases, no response at all.

Trash collection services were suspended indefinitely, and residents were told to "self-manage" waste—leading to illegal dumping and public health concerns.

Roads became impassable due to potholes and flooding, with no funds available to repair culverts or clear storm drains.

Public schools, already underfunded, were forced to eliminate extracurriculars, art programs, and elective classes—stripping away every ounce of enrichment that makes school more than a testing center.

This was not theoretical. This was a real place that tried to run a modern community without funding it. And the people who pushed for it? Many moved out after the damage was done.

The Dillon Rule: Why Kentucky Counties Can’t Just “Find Another Way”

Let’s get into the weeds for a second, because this part matters.

Kentucky is what’s called a Dillon Rule state. That means local governments, counties, cities, school districts only have the powers explicitly granted to them by the state legislature. They can’t just invent new tax structures or revenue streams because they feel like it. They have to play by the rules set in Frankfort.

So when someone like Chet Hand waves his hands and says, “We’ll find another way,” he’s either wildly uninformed or dangerously dishonest. There is no other way right now. The Kentucky General Assembly hasn’t provided one. And unless that changes, property tax is the only reliable tool we have to keep counties running.

Judge Executive Gary Moore, who has led Boone County through more than two decades of growth and stability, said it plainly:

“We have tools in our toolbox. Property tax is the one we have right now. We have to use it, or things fall apart.”

What Closure Actually Looks Like

If you want to know what happens when we throw out the one tool we have, here’s what that looks like in real time.

Law enforcement will shrink. Sheriff’s departments and local police will be forced to reduce staff and cut back on patrols. They may stop responding to non-emergency calls altogether. Break-ins, domestic disputes, and vandalism will go unanswered—not because they don’t care, but because they can’t afford the manpower or gas to get there.

Fire and EMS services will be delayed or disappear. Some fire stations in rural areas will close entirely. Volunteers will be stretched too thin to respond. Ambulances will be rerouted from farther away, adding precious minutes in emergencies. And increasingly, counties will begin charging out-of-pocket fees for response, leaving families with thousands in debt for calling 911.

County roads will crumble. Without property tax revenue, potholes won’t be filled, fallen trees won’t be removed, and snow won't get plowed. Road crews will be cut, and infrastructure projects shelved. Dangerous intersections will go unaddressed, and minor issues will become major hazards.

Libraries and senior centers will close. These vital community spaces will be some of the first to shut their doors. That means no internet access for families without Wi-Fi, no early literacy programs, no senior meal delivery, no safe gathering spaces for teens or retirees. We lose connection, we lose opportunity, and we lose our community fabric.

Animal shelters will collapse. Overworked, underfunded, and flooded with neglected or abandoned pets, shelters will either scale down dramatically or shut down completely. With no one to pick up strays, we’ll see an explosion in loose animals, more bite reports, and more preventable disease outbreaks.

Public schools will suffer. While state funding covers part of the budget, local property taxes make up a significant chunk. Without it, schools will freeze hiring, cut teaching staff, and eliminate programs—especially in special education, mental health support, the arts, and career readiness. Parents will be asked to donate more while getting less. Teachers will be asked to do more with nothing.

This is the future that Chet Hand’s anti-tax crusade sets us up for. Not a leaner, freer county—but a hollow one.

What Can You Do?

You don’t have to be a policy expert to make a difference. You just have to pay attention and act early.

Start attending local Fiscal Court meetings. Read School Board agendas. Ask every candidate how they plan to fund essential services. Don’t settle for slogans or half-answers. And when you vote in 2026, avoid straight ticket voting and vote all the way down the ballot. Vote on the issues not on the party because your community can be destroyed by 2030 if you do not look at the entire picture locally.

Because your county’s future won’t be decided by a presidential debate, it’ll be decided by someone you can meet at a coffee shop, at a town hall, or at your doorstep.

And if that person doesn’t have a real plan to fund the services your family counts on, they’re not a leader, they’re a liability.