Cincinnati Police Union Holds Vote Following Incident
The July 26 brawl in downtown Cincinnati was more than just another viral street fight—it was a flashpoint, a raw and unfiltered display of urban disorder that shook the city and reverberated across the country. The aftermath has been equally dramatic, culminating in a unanimous vote of no confidence in Mayor Aftab Pureval by the city’s police union, the Cincinnati Fraternal Order of Police Lodge 69.
This wasn’t a symbolic gesture. It was a stinging rebuke from the very men and women tasked with keeping Cincinnati’s streets safe, and it highlights just how fractured the relationship between City Hall and law enforcement has become.
At the center of the union’s fury is not only Pureval’s response—or lack thereof—to the melee, but also what they describe as political interference in justice itself. When a 45-year-old white victim of the attack, Alex Tchervinski, was charged with disorderly conduct, the FOP made it clear they saw the move as nothing less than political theater, designed to placate “racial tensions” rather than uphold the rule of law.
The facts of the case, as they’ve emerged, are grim. Tchervinski, who was robbed and hit 28 times in the head, lashed out in the chaos with a single slap—caught on video and elevated by the mayor’s office into a criminal charge.
His attorney insists he was acting in self-defense, protecting his girlfriend and friend in the midst of the violent storm. That the city solicitor pursued charges anyway, allegedly at Pureval’s urging, has been described by FOP President Ken Kober as “the most egregious” meddling he’s seen in his career.
Meanwhile, Pureval himself was nowhere to be found in the immediate aftermath. As the story gained national traction, the mayor remained on vacation in Vancouver, waiting three days before issuing a response. In a crisis, silence speaks volumes, and for many in the police ranks, it was the sound of abandonment.
The no confidence vote also cited Pureval’s failure to address the alleged misconduct of Iris Roley, a city contractor accused of interfering with a separate police investigation. Layer that atop the mayor’s perceived hesitation to stand unequivocally with officers after the downtown assault, and the union’s frustration boiled over into unanimous action.
The suspects in the brawl—seven in total—have now been charged. Their rap sheets are hardly minor. Patrick Rosemond, Jermaine Mathews, Montanez Merriweather, and others face multiple felonious assault charges, aggravated rioting, and in some cases, federal indictments ranging from firearm possession to fentanyl trafficking. This wasn’t a bar fight. It was organized chaos, violent and criminal in its intent.
And yet, instead of amplifying outrage over the suspects, the mayor’s office made the curious choice to train its prosecutorial gaze on one of the victims.