Washington DC – In the heat of Texas politics, as the 2026 Senate primary looms, voters across the state have been bombarded with a barrage of television and digital ads portraying U.S. Senator John Cornyn as a steadfast ally of President Donald Trump. These spots, flooding airwaves in key markets like Dallas-Fort Worth and Houston, aren’t the work of Cornyn’s official campaign. Instead, they originate from a shadowy newcomer: the Lone Star Freedom Project, a freshly minted 501(c)(4) nonprofit chaired by former Texas Governor Rick Perry.

Launched just weeks ago, this group has already funneled and estimated $260,000 into Dallas-Fort Worth media buys and $40,000 in Houston, all in a bid to shore up Cornyn’s image amid a brewing challenge from Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton. But beneath the glossy pro-Cornyn messaging lies a web of undisclosed funding and deep-rooted political alliances, raising questions about who—or what—is truly pulling the strings.

A Star-Studded Board, But Opaque Origins

The Lone Star Freedom Project burst onto the scene in early October 2025, positioning itself as a vehicle for “social welfare” in the Lone Star State. Its website, which went live around October 1, proudly lists Perry as chair, flanked by a roster of Texas heavyweights. Perry, the 47th Governor of Texas from 2000 to 2015 and briefly U.S. Secretary of Energy under Trump, brings political clout. His assentation from state House representative to agriculture commissioner, and ultimately to the governorship after succeeding George W. Bush.

Joining Perry are Susan Combs, a former Texas Comptroller and the state’s first female Agriculture Commissioner, who later served as Assistant Secretary for Policy, Management, and Budget at the U.S. Department of the Interior. Combs, now a fellow at the University of Texas Center for Identity and treasurer of the Women’s Suffrage National Monument Foundation, oversees a sprawling West Texas family ranch.

Claire Brickman, a University of Texas and Southern Methodist Law alum, rounds out the legal muscle with stints at the Department of Justice and as a state prosecutor. And then there’s Marcus Luttrell, the Houston-born Navy SEAL hero of Lone Survivor fame, a recipient of the Navy Cross and Purple Heart for his harrowing survival in Afghanistan’s Operation Red Wings.

On paper, it’s an all-star team of conservative credentials. Incorporated as a Delaware, not Texas, domestic corporation on June 25, 2025—just months before its ad blitz—the group claims 501(c)(4) status, allowing it to operate as a tax-exempt social welfare organization. Yet, for all its Texas pride, the project’s rapid formation and immediate dive into partisan advertising smack of strategic timing, especially as Perry has publicly lumped his endorsement of Cornyn with support for other GOP establishment figures like former Texas House Speaker Dade Phelan.

The Dark Money Veil: Unlimited Funds, Zero Transparency

What truly sets the Lone Star Freedom Project apart—and fuels its suspicious aura—is its 501(c)(4) designation. Under IRS rules, these “social welfare” nonprofits can engage in political activities, including unlimited independent expenditures on ads, as long as such efforts aren’t their “primary” purpose. The catch? They aren’t required to disclose donors, earning them the moniker “dark money” groups. Unlike super PACs or 527 organizations, 501(c)(4)s like this one can hoover up unlimited cash from individuals, corporations, unions, or even foreign nationals (if carefully crafted)—without ever revealing the sources.

This loophole is particularly alarming for foreign influence. Current federal law imposes no outright ban on contributions from non-U.S. citizens, green card holders, or overseas entities to 501(c)(4)s, provided the funds aren’t explicitly directed toward banned election activities. But there’s the rub. The organization’s stated purpose is “social walfare”, not “electioneering”.

Furthermore, there’s no cap on donation amounts, and since donors remain anonymous, a Russian oligarch, a Chinese state-linked firm, or a Saudi sheikh could funnel millions through domestic proxies, indirectly shaping U.S. elections. The group could then pass those funds to super PACs or launch its own ad salvos, all while cloaked in secrecy.

For a group as nascent as Lone Star Freedom Project —too new for IRS filings or an OpenSecrets profile—its absence from public databases isn’t surprising. Self-declared 501(c)(4)s don’t need pre-approval, and their first Form 990 returns won’t surface until mid-2026 at earliest. But that delay only amplifies the opacity: Who bankrolled that $300,000 ad buy? Domestic oil barons hedging against Paxton’s populist fire? Foreign interests eyeing Texas energy policy through Cornyn’s Senate perch? Or shadowy super PACs laundering cash? Without disclosure, it’s anyone’s guess, all we know for sure is that Rick Perry has his fingers all over it.

Perry and Cornyn: A Brotherhood Forged in Texas Power

The Lone Star Freedom Project isn’t operating in a vacuum—it’s the latest chapter in a decades-long bromance between Perry and Cornyn, two architects of the Texas Republican machine. Their paths first crossed in the late 1990s, when Cornyn served as Texas Attorney General (1999–2002), overlapping with Perry’s early days as governor starting in December 2000. The bond solidified in November 2002, when Perry appointed the newly elected Cornyn to a brief interim U.S. Senate term vacated by Phil Gramm, giving Cornyn a head start in Washington and cementing their mutual loyalty.

This alliance extends through a constellation of shared operatives, many of whom have shuttled between their orbits:

These overlaps aren’t coincidental; they trace back to shared bastions like the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a Perry-favored think tank pushing government agendas that Cornyn has long championed. Perry’s endorsement of Cornyn in the 2026 primary—framed as a bulwark against Paxton’s insurgent bid—feels like a full-circle moment for two men who have traded appointments, advice, and influence for over two decades.

A Shadow Over Texas Conservatism?

As the Lone Star Freedom Project ramps up its pro-Cornyn offensive, its dark money structure invites scrutiny in an era of heightened concerns over election integrity. For Texas voters, the real question isn’t just whether Cornyn is a “Trump ally,” but whose money is scripting the narrative. In a primary pitting establishment grit against populist fervor, this group’s unchecked flow of hidden funds could tip the scales—and deepen America’s divide over who gets to buy influence in the shadows. As filings trickle in next year, the truth may finally emerge. Until then, the Lone Star’s freedom comes with a hefty veil of secrecy.

Rep. Wesley Hunt’s entry into the 2026 Republican primary for U.S. Senate in Texas introduces a new contender to an already contentious field, potentially dividing the anti-establishment vote and bolstering Sen. John Cornyn’s position despite widespread base frustration with the incumbent.

Hunt, a second-term congressman from Houston’s suburbs, announced his candidacy on Monday, positioning himself as a Trump-aligned conservative ready to take on Cornyn and state Attorney General Ken Paxton.

The move comes after months of speculation and despite pleas from national GOP leaders, including the National Republican Senatorial Committee, to stay in his safe House seat and avoid fracturing the party.

Paxton entered the race in April, framing it as a direct challenge to Cornyn’s leadership within the Senate GOP and instantly became a favorite of the Conservative (anti RINO) wing of the party.

Hunt’s decision adds complexity to a primary that has pitted the party’s populist wing against its institutional core. Conservatives have long criticized Cornyn for his close ties to Mitch McConnell and perceived reluctance to fully embrace former President Trump’s agenda. Paxton, with his record of battling federal overreach on issues like election integrity and border security, has emerged as the base’s preferred alternative. Yet Hunt—himself a vocal Trump supporter—could siphon votes from Paxton, creating a scenario where Cornyn advances on a plurality.

This dynamic raises questions about the race’s origins. While Hunt has cited personal motivations, including family priorities and a desire to address national challenges like the border crisis, his ties to Texas’s GOP establishment merit scrutiny. In 2020, as a candidate in the district once represented by George H.W. Bush, Hunt publicly honored the former president’s birthday on Facebook, praising Bush’s journey “from the Halls of Congress to the Oval Office.“

That district, TX-07, remains a touchstone for the Bush network’s influence in Houston politics, where establishment figures have historically shaped Republican primaries.

Further connections link Hunt to Cornyn directly. The two co-sponsored the Project Safe Childhood Act in April 2023, a bipartisan measure aimed at combating child exploitation—a rare point of collaboration amid broader GOP tensions.

Such alliances, while policy-driven, underscore Hunt’s navigation of both populist and institutional lanes. In a state where Bush-era influencers—consultants, donors, and operatives—still wield significant sway, it’s not implausible that surrogates from this network quietly encouraged Hunt’s bid. Reports indicate Cornyn’s reelection team has been aggressive in defining the field, including efforts to highlight Paxton’s legal vulnerabilities.

A divided primary would align with that strategy, allowing Cornyn to conserve resources while opponents expend energy on each other.

Hunt brings strengths to the race: his military background as a West Point graduate and Army veteran, his appeal as a Black conservative in a diversifying party, and his record of viral advocacy on conservative issues.

He has positioned himself as a bridge between Trump’s base and broader GOP coalitions. But his candidacy is not without vulnerabilities that could blunt his momentum.

Foremost among them is an ethics probe from June 2024, when the Office of Congressional Ethics referred Hunt to the House Ethics Committee for potentially misusing campaign funds on private club memberships totaling over $74,000. The expenditures included dues to a Houston social club and a shooting range, which investigators questioned as personal rather than campaign-related.

Though cleared in December 2024 due to ambiguities in federal rules, the episode fueled accusations of fiscal laxity—ironic for a candidate who campaigns on reining in government spending.

On that front, Hunt has drawn fire from fiscal hawks for supporting multiple continuing resolutions that raised the debt ceiling since entering Congress in 2023. Detractors, including online conservative commentators, have labeled him a “RINO” for these votes, arguing they contradict his pledges to cut waste and align with Trump’s economic vision. His attendance record has also come under scrutiny, with recent reports noting an uptick in missed roll calls as he weighed a Senate run.

Foreign policy stances add another layer. Hunt’s strong support for Israel, including sponsorship of bills like the Antisemitism Awareness Act backed by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, has earned him plaudits from pro-Israel donors but criticism from those who view it as prioritizing foreign lobbies over domestic concerns.

In Texas, with its sizable Arab-American community, this could prove a liability.

As the primary unfolds—filing deadline in December, early voting in March—polling will clarify the splits. Early indicators suggest Paxton leads among hardline conservatives, but Hunt’s entry could narrow that gap by 20-30 points, per anecdotal assessments from GOP insiders. A fragmented field risks handing Cornyn a narrow victory, much like past Texas primaries where vote division favored incumbents.

For constitutional conservatives seeking a Senate voice uncompromised by Washington habits, this race tests the party’s resolve. Paxton’s prosecutorial edge offers a clear path to reform; Hunt’s polish might dilute it. Whether this is organic ambition or orchestrated disruption, the outcome will shape Texas’s role in a GOP Senate majority—and the broader fight to restore limited government.

* Correction. We removed reference to Mitch McConnell as Minority Leader.

Rockwall County, TX – In the heart of Texas, where fiscal conservatism should reign supreme, Rockwall Independent School District is once again testing the waters of taxpayer tolerance. On Monday, the RISD Board of Trustees voted to call a Voter-Approval Tax Ratification Election (VATRE) for November 4—Proposition A on the ballot, no less—promising voters a chance to unlock over $16.5 million annually for staff pay hikes, student programs, special education, and school safety. Sounds noble, right? But peel back the layers, and what emerges is a tapestry of half-truths, misleading claims, and outright fiscal sleight-of-hand designed to squeeze more from hardworking families without the accountability that true conservatives demand.

Let’s start with the basics. RISD touts this as a modest “net 4-cent” increase in the Maintenance & Operations (M&O) tax rate. How do they get there? By first approving an 8-cent cut to the Interest & Sinking (I&S) rate—the part that funds debt service—and then slapping on 12 new cents for operations. Presto: a “net” hike that they claim is 66% less burdensome than last year’s failed proposal. But here’s the rub: This isn’t some benevolent tax relief; it’s a shell game. The I&S reduction might sound like savings, but it’s largely illusory for many taxpayers, especially when coupled with rising property values that already inflate bills. And that average impact? They peg it at $160 a year, or about $13 a month. For a district serving growing suburbs east of Dallas, that’s no small change for families already grappling with inflation and Biden-era economic woes.

RISD’s pitch leans heavily on urgency: Without this cash infusion, they warn, teachers and staff might flee to greener pastures, class sizes could balloon, programs might get axed, and fees could rise. It’s the classic bureaucratic bogeyman—vote yes or watch the system crumble. But dig into the numbers, and the narrative crumbles faster than a poorly built school foundation. According to data from the Houston Chronicle for the 2023-2024 school year, Rockwall ISD’s average teacher salary stands at $64,700. Compare that to neighbors: Royse City ISD at $63,100, Forney at $62,100, Terrell at $63,000, Community at $63,600, and even Wylie lagging at $55,200. Only Garland ISD edges ahead at $67,700. So, where’s the mass exodus? RISD isn’t scraping the bottom; it’s competitively positioned, if not outright leading in many cases. Claims of uncompetitive pay ring hollow—more like a pretext to pad budgets without proving results.

And let’s not gloss over their boast that RISD is “one of only four districts in our area” without VATRE funds and the sole holdout in House District 33. This isn’t a badge of fiscal honor; it’s spun as a disadvantage, implying they’re uniquely starved. But why the rush now? Texas schools have long navigated funding formulas that reward efficiency, and conservatives know that more money doesn’t always mean better outcomes—especially when it’s extracted straight from taxpayers’ pockets without the market discipline of bonds. Speaking of which: RISD insists this won’t increase district debt, and technically, they’re right—no new bonds here. But that’s no virtue. Bonds at least offer investors a return, creating some semblance of accountability. This VATRE? It’s direct taxation for operational slush funds, with vague promises on spending: “employee compensation, school safety, special education, and student programs.” No specifics, no metrics for success, just trust us.

Then there’s the sweetener: A constitutional amendment on the ballot for an extra $40,000 homestead exemption, which they say will soften the blow for average homeowners. Seniors over 65? Unaffected, as long as no home improvements. Convenient, but incomplete. What about the broader picture? Property taxes in Texas remain a regressive beast, disproportionately hitting fixed-income folks and small businesses. This exemption might nibble at the edges, but it doesn’t erase the net increase RISD is pushing. And for those eyeing the fine print, the district’s “Simple Truths” website and VATRE2025 page are trotted out as educational tools—yet they read more like polished PR than transparent accounting.

As a constitutional conservative, I see this for what it is: Another layer of government overreach masquerading as necessity. Texas thrives when we prioritize limited government, low taxes, and personal responsibility—not when school boards play fast and loose with facts to fund ever-expanding bureaucracies. Voters, mark your calendars: Register by October 6, early voting October 20-31. But before you cast that ballot, ask yourself—do half-truths deserve your hard-earned dollars? Rockwall deserves better than this tax-and-spend charade. Let’s demand real reforms, not rubber stamps.

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