Daniel A. Rosemond: A Voice of Courage, Clarity, and Civil Truth

Few authors possess the bravery, insight, and integrity of Daniel A. Rosemond, whose debut memoir Death of the Public Servant, is not only a riveting personal account, but a beacon for those navigating the murky waters of politics, justice, and personal redemption. It is a story that transcends a singular event—it’s a deep and layered narrative of one man’s battle to reclaim his name, his dignity, and ultimately, his life’s purpose. In this extraordinary true story, Daniel A. Rosemond shares his harrowing journey from a respected City Manager in Broward County, Florida, to a man publicly ousted, falsely accused, and labeled a whistleblower. After thirty years of dedicated and exemplary service, he was blindsided by betrayal, thrust into an unrelenting storm of public scrutiny, emotional isolation, and professional devastation. What followed was a grueling six-year legal battle—an uphill climb that tested his resolve, shook his faith, and nearly broke him. But against the odds, Daniel A. Rosemond not only cleared his name, he won a multi-million-dollar jury verdict, proving both his innocence and the quiet, unwavering strength that defines him. nearly broke him. But against the odds, Daniel A. Rosemond not only cleared his name, he won a multi-million-dollar jury verdict, proving both his innocence and the quiet, unwavering strength that defines him.

What makes Daniel's story even more remarkable is the quiet, personal way it began—not in a courtroom, but at the urging of his daughter, who encouraged him to journal when words were too painful to speak. That simple act of writing—meant as a path to healing—grew into a powerful manuscript, and eventually into a published book that now touches the hearts and minds of readers across the country.  But Daniel A. Rosemond didn’t stop there. Embracing his new role as an author with humility and determination, he took a leap into the self-publishing world and organized his own book signing—a milestone many first-time authors find daunting. With thoughtfulness and care, he selected a strategic time and accessible venue, and the result was a vibrant, successful event that exceeded expectations. His willingness to step outside his comfort zone, to connect with readers face to face, and to believe in his story made that day unforgettable—for himself and everyone who attended. This is precisely why Death of the Public Servant holds such weight in the self-publishing world. Daniel A. Rosemond’s journey is a shining example of how independent voices—when nurtured and empowered—can rise to share powerful truths that traditional outlets might overlook. His memoir is raw, brave, and strikingly honest. It exposes the flaws in systems of governance, amplifies the personal toll of public service, and reminds us of the fragile line between honor and betrayal. It is a testimony, not just of survival, but of purpose.  Daniel A. Rosemond is not simply an author—he is an inspiration. His transformation from a silenced public figure to a courageous storyteller demonstrates that healing can begin with the written word. His story urges us to listen more deeply, question more carefully, and defend integrity at every level of leadership. With more books on the horizon, including a powerful Christian title, Daniel A. Rosemond’s voice will continue to echo through the halls of literature and the hearts of those who seek truth. At Limelight Publishing, we are incredibly proud to partner with Daniel A. Rosemond. His story enriches our catalog and our community. We believe this is just the beginning—and that his work will continue to impact readers, leaders, and aspiring authors for years to come.

AND. THEY. LIVED
 By Daniel A. Rosemond

Wait, isn’t something missing? Indeed, it is. In grammar it is referred to as an incomplete sentence. In life…well, some refer to it as part of it. Disappointment doesn’t sufficiently capture the sentiment. Acceptance seems at times hypocritical. The precise feeling is enigmatic, prompting the need to articulate details to which very few are privy. An epilogue, if you will, for those interested or simply curious. Some of you reading this article may be familiar with my story. Others may have actually read the book, The Death of the Public Servant. In it, I share the harrowing details of a stellar public service career that was destroyed at the hands of a single bad actor with the aid of two accomplices. The interesting elements to this story being that the assailants responsible for this “death” were publicly elected and carried out this deed in plain sight for all to see. If this were the teaser to a crime show, you might anticipate that there’s more to the story. And you would be right. You would also likely presume that in the end, the bad actors would be caught, brought to justice, and the victim would be made whole. Which is precisely where the book ends. Well, at least the part where the victim is made whole. The elation of a favorable jury verdict could not be measured! For a legal battle 6+ years in the making this outcome was absolutely deserved. Not just for me, but for my wife and daughters who had each endured the impact of this trauma in their own unique way. A financial award doesn’t necessarily erase the pain of what was intentionally eviscerated. It can, however, smooth the path forward. Or so we thought. We knew that an appeal by the Defendant (The City of Hallandale Beach) was likely, but I was hopeful that such a convincing court victory would result in a humbled and contrite elected body to simply cut their losses. And more importantly, cut the check. But the path forward would be blocked under the veil of protecting the public’s interest. The Defendant’s motion to appeal would be filed almost immediately following the bench trial. This lesser involved hearing before the presiding judge was absent from a jury and witnesses. It was a secondary element to my case that involved front pay damages but connected to the jury’s verdict of my wrongful termination. We would once again be victorious. You’ve heard it said that the wheels of justice turn slowly. But having overcome what I thought was the highest hurdle, I was less anxious during the waiting period leading to the appeal hearing. I was also continually reminding myself of the number 87. This was the percentage rate of success my attorney said was typically attributable to the prevailing party in the appeal process. It was difficult not to plan what we would do once we received the final judgement and the payment for all the pain and suffering we had endured since late 2016 when this horrific journey began. We waited so long, made so many sacrifices. Our retirement savings, more than two decades in the making, completely depleted. With no steady employment of our own, my wife and I relied on the income from our adult daughters to make ends meet. This did not, however, stave off the accumulation of substantial credit card debt compounded by a painstaking level of tax liability triggered by early withdrawal penalties. But mounting financial debt paled in comparison to the subtle shame my wife and I carried knowing that but for our daughters’ commitment to our family’s well-being, she and I might not have made it. Our domestic setup often generated curious looks and inquiry. I would typically mask my embarrassment by blaming it on the COVID 19 pandemic as the reason why two single millennials were still living with their parents. Truthfully, it was the parents that were living with their kids. This was not at all the circumstances we envisioned heading into our golden years. We worked hard all our lives to establish financial stability so that we could support our kids in their dreams and endeavors. As for our collective dreams? They were eclipsed by necessity but undergirded by our family bond.  The weight of debt from bad financial decisions is one thing. But when debt is a byproduct of deliberate actions aimed at one’s career destruction, it is a continual reminder of the evil that lurks within the human heart. But then I remembered 87%. The average NBA free throw percentage is 75%. Way less if you’re Shaq. I was optimistic that this prolonged trauma would soon be over, and my family and I could…live happily ever after. Despite the wicked assertions made by opposing counsel that my goal was to seek a “financial windfall” at his client’s expense, my objectives were much more noble. 

Didn’t I deserve to be compensated for my lost wages and all the pain and suffering we had endured for nearly a decade? My modest goals were to replenish my retirement funds, make substantial charitable contributions, and take care of forfeited medical coverage and life insurance policies. Casualties resulting from the despicable actions of a public organization. I didn’t want my daughters to worry about their parents’ well-being as they advanced in age. And I wanted to leave them a worthy inheritance, a biblical principle specifically attributed to fathers. Another unmet responsibility that occupied my thoughts during many sleepless nights. “…The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21) The Appeal hearing took place on February 13, 2024, almost exactly two years after the jury trial began. Unlike a full jury trial, appeal hearings are void of eloquently rehearsed opening statements, witness testimony, or the presentation of evidence. This hearing, held at the 4th District Court of Appeals in West Palm Beach, Florida, would take just 32 minutes and be adjudicated by the three judges assigned to this case. Each side had already submitted their arguments in the motion briefs submitted to the court. The hearing was primarily for the attorneys to emphasize case law in support of the legal theory proffered in their submitted briefs. If the performance of my attorney Brian Lerner was impressive during jury trial, his preparation and command of the case law supporting the upholding of the lower court’s verdict during the appeal hearing was downright masterful!  As I sat in the courtroom watching both parties make their presentations, my nerves gradually ascended to confident anticipation. We are taught to read the room. I did. Given the questions and comments by two of the three judges, it was clear that they had read (or at least been briefed on) the trial transcripts. Anyone that watched this hearing would draw the same conclusion as me…a terrible injustice had taken place, a career had been destroyed, and a jury of my peers had rendered a verdict and financial award in my favor. The days immediately following the appeal hearing dragged like the final semester for a high school senior before graduation. My impatience got the better of me and I researched how long this court routinely took to issue its rulings. By this point it had been almost eight years. What’s another six months by comparison? When I saw the call coming from Brian around noon on June 5th, I was preparing to let out a shout of joy that had been pent up for so very long. But the shout turned to a gasp from a gut punch of such severity that each one of my senses went into shock. “The court issued its ruling in favor of the City”. There were other words that followed but I honestly can’t remember them. No one could have expected this. My attorneys were speechless, along with being dismayed at the miscarriage of justice. I went into a withdrawal deeper than when the initial false allegations were made against me. I was furious with God. Why let us win (twice) only to have it stripped away!? Why did I write the book wherein I proclaimed my faith in Jesus only to have it be known that evil prevailed against a child of God, and in such public fashion? I was full of shame, full of anger and overcome by fear. What do we do now and how am I supposed to support my family? Some might argue that I should just get another job and start over. Sounds simple, doesn’t it. Except for the part about me pushing 60 and linked to litigation against a former employer. An impressive resume is no match for those odds, which was made clear by the litany of rejection letters received since 2016, ambassadors from the island known as despair. About a week after the ruling, I wrote to the partners of the firm. In my email I thanked them for the past eight years of loyal service to my case and expressed that I understood if they would cease continuing to invest resources given the low probability of a reversal of the appellate court’s ruling. My attorneys had vowed to keep fighting but I was empty inside. The managing partner reassured me that legal outcomes are unpredictable and that when they commit to taking a case, their commitment is till the end. Having one’s name on a legal motion petitioning the state Supreme Court was surreal. Never could I have imagined finding myself in this situation. But then again, I never could have imagined being at the center of a case where the actions of a public organization against a former executive level employee could be found liable for substantial punitive damages. By all accounts, this case-if ultimately ruled in my favor, would set a legal precedent in Florida and perhaps across the country. Could this be the larger purpose behind all this pain? The thought stirred a glimmer of optimism, despite Brian tempering my expectations that the Supreme Court has discretionary jurisdiction in most cases. I allowed space for a ray of hope that God had a purpose in this journey. Surely my case had to rise to this level for significantchanges to occur in the public service industry. By now you might have anticipated a last- minute, supernatural turn of events. Spoiler alert, it was not to be. On December 20, 2024, the Florida Supreme Court declined our motion to present our case. We had reached the end of the road. No further legal options existed. True justice would be denied, and the assailants would never be held accountable.

It was a somber Christmas. There were tears followed by questions, followed by more tears. But mostly I remember an indescribable numbness. Although the Supreme Court would not hear our case and reverse the appellate court's ruling (as we had desperately hoped), the final ruling did determine that the City wrongfully terminated my employment and thus awarded me the amount reflected in my contract.  An amount which was a miniscule fraction of what my family had been robbed of. Brian attempted to encourage me with this outcome, but I was inconsolable. After 8 years, the only punishment levied by the courts was for the City to pay what my original contract entitled me to. To add insult to injury, my attorneys would not be entitled to collect their fees-amassed to seven figures by this point. The larger message to elected officials was you can do what you wish as it pertains to the career of your city manager and there would be no consequences-personal or organizational. Spare me the “life is not fair” sentiment. I get it. And I write this article not for sympathy but for transparency. I suspect that many who followed the case are of the opinion that we were living in the lap of luxury without a care in the world. They would be woefully mistaken. I am also fully cognizant that our family, the four of us, are truly the only ones that can fully understand the breadth of this entire experience, past and present. And so, it falls on the four of us to resolve to keep taking the next step forward with God’s help. The canvas of what life was supposed to look like at this juncture has been painted with unimaginable colors and jagged brush strokes. Our options are limited, you see. Looming constantly in my consciousness was the temptation to feed the beasts of bitterness and anger and turn away from our Maker and Sustainer. Or we could simply choose to live.

• And they lived…future uncertain, but “leaning not on our own understanding and acknowledging Him in all our ways.” (Prov. 3:5-6)
• And they lived…victory relinquished, but mindful that God has made us more than conquerors. (Romans 8:37)
• And they lived…justice denied, on this side of eternity but justified in Christ Jesus (1 Cor. 16:11)
• And they lived…trusting the Creator of all life, knowing that He “has plans for us, to give us a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11)

The happily ever after in this life is not guaranteed. Relying solely on outcomes going the way we desire is a failed strategy. While death was certainly brought upon the career and dreams of a public servant, life was still being sustained just below the surface, its roots being watered and anchored in unshakable hope for justice in a heavenly kingdom. I would be remiss if I glossed over unexpected gifts that manifested during this tragic saga. The gift of a loving and supportive family is not cliché. For it would have been easy for our strong unit to have crumbled under the unwelcome financial stress and emotional trauma. Instead, we grew closer. I got to witness firsthand the godly character of our daughters played out in practical ways time and again. Perhaps a more profound gift was our family’s unfiltered expression of our struggle with faith when the answer to prayer is no. We learned that true faith is on the other side of pruning. We are living proof that there are times when deep hurt and disappointment will coexist with hope and trust in something (or someone) beyond our understanding. We chose to live!

Death of the Public Servant, by Daniel A. Rosemond, is available in paperback and eBook