Bogalusa’s Young Mayor vs. the Machine

When Tyrin Truong was elected mayor of Bogalusa in 2022, he made history. At just 23 years old, he became one of the youngest mayors in Louisiana—and one of the youngest Black mayors in the Deep South. He promised transparency, accountability, and a break from the old way of doing business.

Two years later, he’s under indictment. The same system he tried to fix now threatens to destroy him.

A New Mayor, Old Power

Bogalusa’s politics have long been ruled by a small network of insiders—people who understood how city contracts, payrolls, and projects flowed. When Tyrin stepped in, he brought change those insiders weren’t ready for.

He called for audits, reviewed vendor contracts, and questioned payroll patterns that didn’t add up. The young mayor quickly clashed with older council members and department heads who’d run the city their way for decades.

He wasn’t from the establishment, and in small-town Louisiana, that made him dangerous.

The Audit That Became a Weapon

In 2024, the Louisiana Legislative Auditor (LLA) announced that Bogalusa was out of compliance with state law. Their report uncovered nearly $468,000 in questionable spending—all from the previous administration, months before Tyrin ever took office.

That should’ve been the end of it. But instead of focusing on those responsible, the spotlight turned on him.

Locals say it felt like a setup. In the Deep South, the same audit system meant to protect taxpayers has often become a political tool used to take down reformers—especially young, independent Black leaders who refuse to play by the old rules.

Across Louisiana, this story repeats itself—from Jonesboro to Grambling, from Baker to Baton Rouge—a new voice challenges old money, an audit drops, and suddenly the reformer becomes the target.

The Checks They Ignored

Recently, old city checks resurfaced online—each dated before Tyrin ever became mayor.

The payments, ranging from small supply costs to nearly $19,000 for a “Balloon Fest”, were all authorized in late 2022 by previous officials.

Community members began asking why no one had been charged for those questionable transactions. Under then-Attorney General Jeff Landry, those checks were never investigated. But after Tyrin accused a relative of a high-ranking official in the new Attorney General’s office of being tied to corruption in Bogalusa, the same spending suddenly became the center of a new investigation—this time, aimed at him.

The same system that once stayed silent had found its voice, and all of it was directed at Bogalusa’s young mayor.

Charges That Don’t Add Up

In January 2025, Tyrin was arrested during what authorities called a “multi-agency drug investigation.” Months later, there were no drug charges.

By October, the story changed again. He was indicted for malfeasance in office, public intimidation, and theft, accused of pressuring a city vendor to make a payment that wasn’t owed.

No money trail, no evidence of personal gain, and no stolen funds were ever identified. Even residents who hadn’t supported him began questioning how a drug investigation could morph into a paperwork crime. The inconsistencies only deepened public suspicion that something larger was at play.

The Mayor Who Called the Police First

Opponents also pointed to a 2024 city-property issue to attack him. Maintenance crews had worked near his mother’s property, and rumors spread of favoritism. But city records later showed it was a drainage project—a municipal job, not a personal favor.

When questions arose, Tyrin called the police himself to document everything and ensure transparency. Instead of being recognized as a responsible act, his decision was spun as suspicious, feeding the ongoing narrative that every move he made could be turned against him.

Timeline of the Setup

  • Late 2022: City checks issued under the previous administration—including a $19,000 “Balloon Fest” payment—go unquestioned.

  • January 2023: At 23, Tyrin takes office and begins auditing contracts, payrolls, and spending. Old-guard officials grow uneasy.

  • December 2023: Proposes dissolving the Bogalusa Police Department to cut costs and increase oversight, sparking backlash.

  • April 2024: State audit reveals $468,000 in questionable pre-Truong spending. Instead of targeting those responsible, attention turns to him.

  • April 2024: Reports a council member’s threat to shoot him and calls police himself to document it.

  • May 2024: Drainage work near his mother’s property is misrepresented as a personal favor—records show it was a city project Tyrin asked police to verify.

  • January 2025: Arrested in a “multi-agency drug probe.” No drugs found. No charges filed.

  • October 2025: Indicted for malfeasance, public intimidation, and theft over a disputed insurance payment—no proof of personal gain.

  • Late 2025: Still not convicted. Many in Bogalusa believe his only real crime was challenging old power.

A Southern Story, Repeating Itself

In the Deep South, young Black mayors who challenge entrenched systems often face the same outcome. They question old money, expose old habits, and end up buried beneath the same institutions they tried to reform.

For Bogalusa, the fight isn’t just about one man—it’s about what kind of city it wants to become.

As of late 2025, Mayor Tyrin Truong remains indicted but unconvicted. No public record shows he stole anything. What’s clear to many is that he disrupted a comfortable order. His real offense, in their eyes, wasn’t corruption—it was courage.

Every generation produces one reformer bold enough to stand up. And in Louisiana, history shows that when they do, the machine always pushes back.

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