Texans get a grueling lesson in democracy after driving to the Capitol to testify on a bill
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By the time the committee hearing began, Tony and Karen Coleman, two farmers from Johnson County, had been awake nearly 24 hours.
The couple had started their day on the farm around 1:30 a.m., fed their cattle, and hit the road by 3 a.m. They arrived at the Capitol by sunrise, waiting outside until someone unlocked the doors.
“We come in as soon as he unlocked the door so we could register,” Tony Coleman said. “They said, ‘Okay, 10:30 [a.m.], we’re gonna have this meeting in the committee.’ And I’ll be damned. It’s 11:20 p.m. at night, and we still ain't seen no committee.”
The Colemans and about 10 others were ready to testify on a bill meant to limit toxic chemicals in fertilizers that are commonly spread onto farmland. By 11 p.m. they were still waiting, slumped in stiff Capitol chairs, passing around snacks: beef jerky, M&M's, and cups of popcorn in white cups that read “89th lege session.”
About 18 hours after they arrived at the Capitol, they still clutched their printed-out speeches, determined to tell lawmakers what happened to their land, their livestock, and their lives.
For the Johnson County delegation — many of whom had never testified before lawmakers — Thursday night was a punishing lesson in how hard it is for regular Texans to participate in their government.
Texas has a part-time Legislature, meaning that lawmaking for a state of 31 million people happens just within 140 days every two years. The end result is crammed hearings, marathon days at the Capitol and lawmakers at times working past 2 a.m. just to meet deadlines.
And that means marathon waits at times for Texans waiting to share their thoughts on bills in the two minutes each citizen gets to address their elected representatives in a committee.
State Rep. Helen Kerwin, R-Cleburne, filed House Bill 1674 in response to the PFAS contamination that devastated some farms in her district. These “forever chemicals” — used in a wide range of consumer products — don’t break down in the environment and have been linked to cancer and reproductive harm. They ended up in fertilizers made from treated sewage, known as biosolids, which were applied on farmland in Johnson County. The Colemans say they’ve lost over 30% of their cattle herd because the fertilizer poisoned their land.
The bill was scheduled for a public hearing in a Texas House committee on Thursday. However, like so many bills during the chaotic final stretch of the legislative session, the committee hearing was pushed back while House members spent a long day debating bills in the chamber.
Among the group of farmers who waited to speak was Robin Alessi and her partner James Farmer, neighbors to the Colemans who said their horses died and the fish in their stock pond were found floating shortly after the fertilizer was applied on a nearby farm. Alessi and Farmer had driven into Austin the night before.
So did Johnson County Constable Troy Fuller, County Commissioner Larry Woolley and the county’s environmental crime investigator Dana Ames, who investigated the animal deaths and discovered the contamination on the farmers' land.
Earlier that day, around noon, the group — dressed in boots, and hats, the women wearing turquoise — sat rehearsing their remarks at the Capitol cafeteria. By 8 p.m., with the House still in session, they were dozing off in Kerwin’s office, trying to make decisions: Who would stay? Who needed to get back home to work the next morning?
“No one is going to be fit to testify,” Ames said flatly, looking around the room at the exhaustion in everyone’s faces. Later, Kerwin called to apologize. “Oh my gosh, Dana. Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.”
Kerwin later came to the office during a break in the action and gave them an update: It wasn’t clear whether the committee was going to meet or not tonight.
“We’re so exhausted”
As the legislative session nears its end, it's increasingly difficult for bills to be heard in committee at a reasonable hour. Committees may set a time to meet, but they need permission from the House to meet while the House is still in session — and floor debates often drag on for hours, especially for controversial bills. That means people who show up to testify can end up waiting all day, with no clear idea of when — or even if — they’ll get the chance to speak.
Cal Jillson, a political science professor at Southern Methodist University, said the legislative process in Texas is driven by leadership, meaning that only bills prioritized by the governor and top lawmakers are likely to get attention. That leaves little opportunity for junior legislators — or everyday citizens — to engage meaningfully.
A citizen who comes to the Capitol wanting to testify "may find their turn to speak doesn't come up for 14 hours so they either get disgusted and go home or they're asleep by the time they turn comes around so it's very frustrating,” Jillson said.
Even when citizens are motivated and show up, Jillson said, “it’s incredibly difficult for an individual to have any real impact.”
As night wore on, the group tried to distract themselves — talking about the musical Wicked, TikTok, leopard-print shoes and guessing Willie Nelson’s age. But frustration leaked in.
“It’s counterproductive. It doesn’t work. Especially when they’re not doing anything productive. A lot of bickering in grandstanding. Running the clock out,” Ames said.
By 10 p.m., legislative aides were offering hotel rooms. People closed their eyes while the TV played the ongoing debate on the House floor. Close to midnight, several of them took turns walking Capitol hallways to stay awake. The mood swung from giddy to bitter to numb.
“We all did our homework. We worked on our speeches,” Alessi said. “We’ve got two minutes. But how fresh are we going to be?”
Ames said two minutes isn’t enough time to explain years of suffering, and talk about dead cows and horses, sick families, and contaminated land.
“How are we going to be able to truly express what we’re feeling? We're so exhausted,” Ames asked. “Then [lawmakers] to be able to pay attention and to listen intently. Who wins in that? There is no winner.”
1 a.m. committee hearing
The House finally adjourned at midnight. It was nearly 1 a.m. Friday when the House Environmental Regulation Committee finally convened. Seventy-four people had registered to speak on the bill — 34 in support, 33 against, the rest neutral.
Industry opponents, including water utilities and the Texas Chemistry Council, said they had concerns about cost and feasibility. A policy analyst from the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a group backing the bill, said the discussion grew heated.
Ames and the farmers finally spoke.
"Farming is a labor of love for us, the legacy for my wife and family, our cows are not just livestock. They are companions, a source of income, our livelihood, and often our emotional support," Tony Coleman said to six lawmakers present at the hearing.
"We have lost 56 cows today. Some were cows, some were calves, some newborns that lived a short time, some born dead, some born blind,” Coleman said, then asked lawmakers to take action.
Twenty-four hours after leaving Johnson County, they could finally sleep.
The group wasn’t bitter — just tired. Still, they couldn’t help but brainstorm a better way for the legislative process to work: Start committee hearings earlier. Reserve specific days for public testimony. Let people know when they’ll speak. They floated ideas around.
“Because you want to participate,” Alessi said. “But this system doesn’t make it easy.”