The ordeal began with a road-rage showdown that seemed uniquely Vermont: two drivers heatedly facing off amid a leaf-peeping traffic jam near the village green in storybook Woodstock. A police investigation would later document shouted profanities and possibly a slap before the tussle came to an end, but neither motorist chose to participate, and no charges were filed.
The episode last fall might have ended there, except that one of the motorists involved was the husband of Woodstock Police Chief Joseph Swanson, who remained on the scene while the fracas unfolded and made no official mention of it until the next day.
The October 13 incident ignited growing tensions that have ruffled sleepy Woodstock for months. It laid bare long-seething resentments toward Swanson within his police force and prompted the municipal manager, Eric Duffy, to place Swanson on administrative leave and hire a private investigator to dig into the chief’s leadership.
Since then, the police union and the emergency dispatcher’s union each delivered a unanimous no-confidence vote in Swanson’s year-and-a-half tenure as chief. At the same time, the chief’s husband, attorney Nicholas Seldon, filed a lawsuit against Woodstock, normally better known for its ranking as “the prettiest small town in America.”
In the middle of it all, Chief Swanson — a member of a prominent local family, a former chair of the Woodstock Selectboard and a decorated police officer once wounded by a gunman during a standoff — has stubbornly rebuffed Duffy’s efforts to demote him.
So, on March 19, to determine Swanson’s fate, the town resorted to a rarely used, quasi-judicial trial process known as a Loudermill hearing, which provides due process for certain public employees facing disciplinary action. The hearing, held in a former basement courtroom, would allow the two parties — the town on one side, Swanson on the other — to make their cases, with a Burlington lawyer hired by the town to preside.
The improvised nature of the proceeding was readily evident. Behind an old judge’s bench, the five members of the Woodstock Village Trustees, usually more consumed with preparing for foliage-season tourists or granting sidewalk permits for Girl Scout cookie sales, sat as jurors. The rival legal teams for the chief and town sat before them at a pair of folding tables, with a third table for witnesses.
The room could accommodate only 30 spectators, who claimed all the spots quickly. (Those attending had to sign a document promising that they would “maintain courtroom-like decorum” and “not hold their seats if they leave the room.”)
Seldon, the chief’s husband, sat directly behind Swanson, joined by a gaggle of supporters. Seldon’s Range Rover, parked outside, displayed a green bumper sticker that demanded: “REINSTATE JOE! FIRE DUFFY!” Nearby, Swanson’s Porsche advertised a more subdued message: “FREE JOE.”
For the next 14 hours, the two sides summoned witnesses, swapped accusations and erupted in occasional outbursts during a hearing that at times sounded more like “The Office” than “Law & Order.” Testimony revealed a police department unhappy with Swanson’s management style: All five police department employees who were called to testify said they would quit if Swanson were reinstated as chief.
Witnesses complained that the chief often showed up hours late, out of uniform, and frequently left work for a haircut or a workout at the gym. He failed to answer phone calls and voicemails and neglected other core facets of his job, officers testified.
“It seemed like he was running a frat house,” said Sgt. Christopher O’Keeffe, who since October has served as acting police chief. “The officers would joke in the quad: ‘Where’s Joe?'”
Mark Donka, a Woodstock officer with more than 44 years of law enforcement experience, said flatly: “I do not respect Joe enough to continue working under him.”
Swanson’s lawyer, Linda Fraas, told Seven Days that her client was the target of a “witch hunt” and cast Duffy, the Woodstock municipal manager, as the villain. The chief — a good man, she told the trustees — was never offered a chance to explain himself for transgressions that she characterized as minor, or to improve his performance. Fraas said Swanson had not received any negative feedback before being placed on paid leave. In fact, she told trustees, Swanson had won glowing reviews from Duffy.
“You all know Joe,” Fraas said. “He has roots in the community; he grew up here.” The chief’s mother, who sat directly behind him, smiled.
The Swanson family is well known in Woodstock. Joe Swanson’s father, Phil, served as Woodstock’s town manager for 34 years and was the state’s longest-serving town manager when he died in 2019.
The younger Swanson, 44, worked for the police department for 22 years in various positions before being promoted to chief. In 2022, then-sergeant Swanson was first on the scene of a fatal shooting. He tried to aid the victim, who was on the ground in a driveway, and came under fire, a bullet grazing his arm. Swanson returned fire. The gunman retreated into a house and later fatally shot himself. Swanson later was named Law Enforcement Officer of the Year by the Vermont American Legion, and he was awarded the department’s medal of honor.
Swanson was also briefly the chair of the town’s selectboard before stepping down to take the chief’s post and served for four years as an elected town auditor.
The marathon hearing saw flashes of levity — and anger — as Brian Monaghan, the Burlington attorney, sought to keep things moving, occasionally raising his voice. When an administrative supervisor for the Woodstock Police Department noted during questioning that she often saw the chief wearing mismatched socks, the crowd, as well as Swanson’s attorney, Fraas, burst into laughter.
“I will not tolerate this behavior!” Monaghan boomed. “This is very disrespectful, especially coming from you,” he said, looking at Fraas. The gallery fell silent. Fraas apologized profusely.
Passions spilled over later when Monaghan accused Seldon and his friends of whispering and asked them to leave.
“I did not say a word,” Seldon shouted, refusing to go. Swanson’s backers joined in, and a yelling match ensued. “Shame on you!” someone shouted at Monaghan, as he attempted to restore order. Monaghan called for a deputy, who was on hand to ensure decorum but who happened to be in the restroom at the time.
Anne Swanson, the chief’s sister, stormed off, shouting: “I have lived here for 40 years, and I am ashamed of all of you!” Seldon eventually decided to leave, too, declaring the proceedings “a kangaroo court.”
One of the chief’s supporters delivered a parting blow directed at Monaghan’s shoulder-length mane: “I hope you wash your hair,” he called.
By now, the deputy had returned. “What did I miss?” he asked, impishly.
The controversy surrounding Swanson and his effectiveness as chief has been the talk of the town for months. The issue has received regular coverage in the Vermont Standard and lit up local email lists and Facebook pages.
The proceeding cost the town thousands of dollars in legal fees, making it a high stakes venture for Duffy, too.
“Woodstock is supposed to be a symbol of sound, credible leadership and governance,” said Bill Edgerton, a Woodstock retiree who managed to last all 14 hours. “Meanwhile the press is rolling out all these headlines. It’s hurting the town.”
Some of the novelty around the Swanson case stems from the rare Loudermill hearing, which is employed in cases involving nonunionized public employees, such as department heads.
In 2021, the City of Burlington tried former Burlington Airport director Gene Richards in a similar quasi-judicial hearing following allegations of bullying and misconduct. Burlington city councilors hearing the case ultimately voted to fire him.
“No one is going to come to this process like a Tabula Rasa. They’re going to know the people involved.” Pietro Lynn
Pietro Lynn, a Burlington attorney, represented former Winooski police chief Steve McQueen in a Loudermill hearing in 2008. He said it was a fascinating experience but that it nearly tore the city apart.
“It’s an unusual situation, because once a board member enters this quasi-judicial capacity, they have to act like a judge,” he said. And yet, he added, “No one is going to come to this process like a tabula rasa. They’re going to know the people involved.”
As the Woodstock hearing dragged deep into the evening, village trustees stifled yawns and passed notes back and forth. Monaghan announced that they would continue until the hearing concluded, no matter how late, because it would be too difficult to schedule another date.
Finally, at 12:30 a.m., after both Duffy and Swanson had taken the stand and their attorneys had delivered closing statements, it appeared a decision was near.
Not quite. Monaghan announced to the five remaining spectators that the village trustees would deliberate some other day. No decision would come this evening, nor would a deadline for making one. In the meantime, Swanson would continue to receive a weekly stipend of $2,030 while on administrative leave.
With that, the hearing was adjourned.
“Quite the finale,” said one of the hangers-on, making his way upstairs into postmidnight darkness. “It’s past my bedtime.”
A motley crew of trustees, attorneys, police officers and village staff mingled in the basement a while longer. A few people began cleaning up and restoring the room to its original setup.
After all, a brand-new day had begun in Woodstock.
Correction, April 3, 2025: Chief Joseph Swanson did get out of a vehicle during a traffic altercation. A previous version of this story contained an error.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Chief’s Justice | Quaint Woodstock stages a quasi-judicial hearing to weigh demotion of its police chief”
This article appears in Mar 26 – Apr 1, 2025.
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