I have a lot of roles, and I take all of them seriously. But aside from husband and father, one of the roles I take most seriously is that of town crier. Sometimes, it’s an easy burden to bear.

When there is a birth, an engagement, a wedding or anything else constituting a happy occasion involving someone in The Process, I feature it in Sunburn and I do so with glee. It’s important for folks like us — in the trenches and surrounded day in and day out by often heavy issues — to celebrate our collective humanity and the joy that comes with it.

But sometimes being the town crier weighs heavy, when it’s up to me and my team to share the news of someone’s passing.

The deaths affect me deeply and I always pray for the departed. It’s an important role, perhaps more important than anything else in my professional life.

Because at one point, I got it wrong.

As some of you may remember, in 2013 I was the first to report the passing of Bill Young, the former Pinellas County Congressman who was a beloved institution in the area. His name still graces many a building in the area. Young did pass, but when I reported it, he had not. “Gravely ill” were the words his family used in correcting me.

It was a gut punch for me, because it must have been an even bigger gut punch to them. It became a sort of existential crisis for my then-burgeoning blog, SaintPetersBlog. Even my ever-loyal wife, Michelle, questioned whether my loss of credibility could be restored. And that was a reality check.

Since then, I’ve shared the sad news of at least 100 politicians, former politicians, lobbyists and staffers exiting this mortal earth, and many times, the news comes as a shock to the political world. Other times, people have heard the tragic news, but leave it up to me to speak the words aloud.

In the words of Uncle Ben, “with great power comes great responsibility,” and that’s largely why, when the obituary writer for the Tampa Bay Times left the paper, I scooped him up to write about important people in The Process who are as impactful as the elected officials themselves.

To be sure, there is no money in the memorialization of death. But our team prioritizes this because we, and I especially, believe that the lives of good people dedicated to public service warrant more than a passing Facebook post.

That’s a really long setup to say, I’m angry and frustrated with Gov. Ron DeSantis over his handling — or rather lack thereof — of the untimely death of Democratic state Rep. Joe Casello.

Last Friday, Casello suffered a massive heart attack. Doctors confirmed the worst to his family, that he would not survive. By Friday evening, he had passed.

On Tuesday, the Governor announced dates for a Special Election to replace Casello. It was his only acknowledgement of Casello’s death.

It would have been decent and appropriate if DeSantis had tweeted something, anything mourning the death of a public servant seemingly respected by Republicans as much as Democrats. Even if there was bad blood between Casello and his colleagues across the aisle, it still would have been decent and appropriate.

After Casello’s death, Republican state Rep. Dean Black tweeted that he was “deeply saddened” by the news, adding that Casello was “universally well-liked.” He praised Casello for his leadership in establishing the Purple Alert system in Florida, which is used to find missing adults with intellectual disabilities.

Will Robinson, another Republican state Representative, similarly tweeted that Casello’s loss was devastating, calling Casello “one of a kind and a member I respected on so many levels.”

Tracy Caruso, editor of the conservative news media site Florida Jolt and a Republican candidate for House District 87 (and wife of Republican state Rep. Mike Caruso), called Casello a “good friend for many years.” Though she acknowledged they didn’t always agree politically, she praised Casello for knowing “how to work with all” and said he “has always been a model of what a public servant should be.”

State Rep. Susan Valdés, a former Democrat-turned Republican, interrupted a Tampa Tiger Bay event to ask for prayers for her friend. She choked up.

I could go on.

So to DeSantis, where is the Executive Order to lower the flag? Drug-addled Rush Limbaugh got that honor when he died. Where are your “thoughts and prayers?”

Instead, DeSantis over the weekend following Casello’s death tweeted five times about golf.

But then, perhaps my anger and frustration should be tempered by what should be an utter lack of surprise. After all, this is the same Governor who, when Pete Antonacci collapsed and died outside of his office, went to a high school football game.

I’d hate to be a staffer in his office on that day. And, it seems, I’d also hate to be a staffer in his office now, realizing my boss can’t muster even the slightest bit of empathy for a public servant just because he happened to have a “D” behind his name instead of an “R.”

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