Another elected official has tripped over their own keyboard and fallen flat on their face in the court of public opinion. Bree Danyele Montoya, a city councilmember from Norman, Oklahoma’s Ward 3, has resigned after a shocking Facebook comment from months ago exploded online. It’s a stark reminder that words, even digital ones, carry weight.
Fox News reported that Montoya’s exit on Tuesday came after a June 2025 online spat with a constituent went viral, thanks to the amplifying power of Libs of TikTok, ultimately forcing her hand after months of apparent silence from city leaders.
Let’s rewind to June 2025, when Montoya clashed with Norman resident Audra Abbott on Facebook over a protest dubbed “No Kings.” The argument escalated faster than a wildfire in a windstorm, with Montoya labeling Abbott “uneducated” before dropping a jaw-dropping suggestion that Abbott harm herself.
It’s the kind of rhetoric that illustrates how the party of "love and tolerance" is anything but loving or tolerant of anyone who doesn't toe the line.
Screenshots of this heated exchange simmered in local Norman Facebook groups throughout the summer. They didn’t stay quiet for long, though. When Libs of TikTok shared the post, it ignited a national firestorm, drawing eyes from every corner to a small-city spat.
Critics, including Abbott herself, have pointed fingers at Norman officials for allegedly ignoring the incident until it became a trending hashtag.
“If it hadn’t gone viral with Libs of TikTok picking it up, I don’t think that anything would have happened at all,” Abbott said. And let’s be honest, it’s hard to argue with her when accountability only seems to arrive with a million clicks.
Montoya, who first took office in 2023 and was re-elected earlier in 2025 before being sworn in again on July 1, didn’t even make it three months into her latest term before stepping down. That’s a quicker exit than a magician’s disappearing act. Her resignation on September 23 came with little fanfare but plenty of fallout.
In her resignation statement, Montoya kept it brief, saying, “Effective immediately, I am resigning as councilmember for Ward 3.” No apology, no deep reflection—just a swift goodbye after years of service since 2008. It’s a curt curtain call that leaves more questions than answers.
The City of Norman was quick to distance itself from the controversy, emphasizing that it doesn’t endorse actions encouraging harm.
Chief Communications Officer Tiffany Martinez Vrska doubled down, stating that the city’s priority is municipal service, not personal remarks by elected officials. It’s a safe stance, but does it address the deeper issue of public trust?
Norman’s leadership is now tasked with filling the Ward 3 vacancy in the coming weeks, and they’ve pointed residents to resources explaining the council-manager government structure. It’s a procedural Band-Aid on a wound that’s more about perception than policy. After all, how do you rebuild faith when words cut so deep?
At the September 23 council meeting, Mayor Stephen Tyler Holman tried to steer the ship back to calmer waters. He reaffirmed the city’s commitment to free speech while urging respect and order in public discourse. It’s a noble goal, but one wonders if the message will stick in today’s polarized climate.
Holman’s words were clear: “As your mayor, I want to affirm our commitment to upholding the rights guaranteed under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.” He’s right to champion free expression, but when that freedom is weaponized into personal attacks, the line gets blurry fast.
Continuing his plea, Holman added, “While we honor the right to free speech, we must also maintain an environment that is respectful, orderly, and conducive to productive discussion.” It’s a tightrope walk between liberty and decency, and Norman just stumbled hard. Let’s hope future leaders take note before hitting “post.”
This saga isn’t just about one councilmember’s misstep—it’s a glaring spotlight on how social media can turn a local disagreement into a national reckoning.
Montoya’s comment wasn’t just a lapse in judgment; it was a grenade lobbed into the already tense arena of political discourse. And in 2025, those explosions echo louder than ever.
From a conservative lens, this incident underscores the dangers of unchecked progressive rhetoric that often dismisses opposing views with venom rather than debate. Yet, it’s also a moment to reflect on how all sides—yes, even those waving the red hats—must prioritize respect over retribution. Hypocrisy isn’t a good look for anyone.
