Oh good — another local election turns into a spectacle that tells you everything you need to know about one side’s idea of “civility.” Marlboro Township, New Jersey: a school board race meant to be about classrooms and budgets instead exploded into a nightmare of vile texts, threats, and two liberal-leaning candidates suddenly deciding they’ve got “other responsibilities.”
Start with the shocker: a snapped photo of a candidate’s phone allegedly revealed a group chat called “ThisB****NeedsToDie.” In that chat, Scott Semaya is accused of typing crude, sexualized taunts about conservative school board member Danielle Bellomo — then, apparently, escalating to messages that described specific actions they wanted to take against her. Bellomo says these were the first messages that made her believe “they don’t want me alive.” That’s not political trash talk. That’s a red flag for criminal behavior.
Is this @Scott_Semaya, an accountant in the NYC Metropolitan Area, the one in the “ThisBitchNeedsToDie” chat group of Democrat members of the Marlboro, New Jersey school board? Danielle Bellomo is a conservative member of the board and a parents’ rights advocate. pic.twitter.com/JYKZwZ87xj
— Irrational Girl (@_Wuthering) October 11, 2025
Then the fallout: Semaya and a running mate from his slate, Melissa Goldberg, who ran under the Collaborators for Responsible Education (CORE) banner, pulled out of the race. Semaya blamed “family circumstances.” Goldberg blamed “other responsibilities.” Convenient timing, that. Screenshots go viral, public pressure mounts, and suddenly campaigns evaporate.
Here’s the part the local press won’t stop replaying: allegedly involved in that chat were people who have business on the school board — including the vice president of the board, Chad Hyett, and the husband of another board member. If true, this isn’t just rude locker-room chatter; this is a culture problem inside the very institutions parents trust with their kids’ education.
Bellomo shared the resignations on Facebook, framing the exit as a win for the community: “Hate has no place in Marlboro,” she wrote. It’s a tidy quote, but the damage goes deeper than a canceled campaign. Parents who show up at board meetings with concerns about curriculum or safety now have to weigh whether the people on the other side of the table are pettily cruel or potentially violent.
A New Jersey school board candidate was caught red-handed sending vicious, sexual messages about a conservative female board member in a group chat labeled “ThisBitchNeedsToDie.”
Photos of Scott Semaya’s vile texts about Danielle Bellomo at a July…https://t.co/sgKCh4jr5Q pic.twitter.com/M3FMnGUHtR— TheRealLaine (@thereallaine) October 11, 2025
Mayor Jonathan Horn, a Democrat, released a statement condemning the messages and calling those involved “not equipped to hold public office.” He also said the police are investigating. That’s the right move — and it’s one many will point to as proof the town isn’t letting this slide. But it raises questions: Why did this group chat exist? How many private conversations about public officials are happening behind phones, and what safeguards do we have to keep elected or aspiring public servants from crossing the line into threats?
This scandal didn’t rise in a vacuum. It comes on the heels of other explosive revelations. In Virginia, messages allegedly linked to a Democrat candidate, Jay Jones, included violent fantasies about killing political opponents — messages that, if true, should disqualify anyone from public office. These patterns of threats and dehumanizing language aren’t just ugly — they’re dangerous. They normalize a mindset where political disagreement can slide into fantasy violence.
Look, school boards are supposed to be about children, curriculum, funding, and safety. They aren’t supposed to be staging grounds for people who talk about harm to their opponents — or for slate politics that protects bad behavior until screenshots make it impossible to ignore. The real victims here are the kids and families who deserve leaders focused on education, not vendettas.
What happens next matters. Will local authorities complete a transparent investigation? Will the community demand accountability from the named board members and spouses allegedly in the chat? Will those who cheered or stayed silent when these messages were sent finally explain why they didn’t speak up?
There’s no neat ending yet. Two campaigns folded, a mother of three who serves on the board says she feared for her life, and a town’s reputation now includes a group chat with a murderous name. That’s not a small scandal. That’s a crack in public trust.
If you care about local governance — and if you care about the safety of public servants and the families they represent — this is the kind of story you shouldn’t scroll past. Because if it can happen in Marlboro, it can happen anywhere. And the next time it does, we’ll all want to know who knew what, and when they decided to finally act.
