We've apparently still not heard the last of former Baltimore State's Attorney Marilyn Mosby and her now ex-husband, City Council President Nick Mosby. Wherever the two of them go, some form of controversy and allegations of corruption seem to follow. Back in 2021, when it appeared that the walls were closing in and the feds could be ready to file charges against them (which they later did), the Mosbys set up a legal defense fund. That seemed a bit odd since they claimed to be as pure as the driven snow and completely innocent, but there's nothing wrong with having a legal defense fund. After the legal dominos began to fall, the Baltimore Sun and other media outlets began inquiring about how much money had been raised for the fund and who had been donating to the couple who appeared to be very well off financially... somehow. Those requests were shut down and the matter was eventually taken to court in the interest of transparency and the public's right to have access to the records of public officials. That fight has gone back and forth for some time now without any productive results, but this week the Baltimore City Circuit Court ruled that the public apparently has no such rights and the list of donors will remain secret. 

A list of more than 130 donors to a legal-defense fund created to benefit Baltimore officials Nick and Marilyn Mosby will remain hidden from the public under a ruling issued Friday by the Baltimore City Circuit Court.

The fund, which was the subject of an ethics investigation that ultimately found Council President Nick Mosby was in violation of city law, was disbanded nearly two years ago following an order from the Baltimore City Board of Ethics to cease operation. Still, Baltimore officials have withheld the list of donors to the fund from media outlets including The Baltimore Sun and the Baltimore Brew, arguing they constitute financial information.

In September, Maryland’s Public Information Act Compliance Board sided with The Sun and the Brew in an appeal, ordering Baltimore to release the complete list of donors who contributed a collective $14,352 to the fund.

To be clear, we're not talking about a massive amount of money here. The fund reportedly raised less than $15,000 and that's far less than other pools of fully public funds that somehow passed through the Mosbys' hands. What's also unclear is whether or not the identity of the donors fully qualifies as a public record subject to disclosure. One judge previously ruled that donations to their legal defense fund should be classified the same as campaign contributions, making them open for disclosure. But the court this week declared that the ruling was made in error and the donations should fall under a separate law in the state’s Public Information Act. Under that act, people's private financial information can be kept private under certain circumstances.

You might find yourself wondering how big of a deal this is and if there would be any value in knowing who donated money to the Mosby's for their legal defense. There certainly might be, given the history that the two of them share. You see, this isn't the first time that the fund has caused trouble for them. In 2022, the Baltimore City Ethics Board ruled that Nick Mosby had violated the city's ethics laws by accepting contributions to the fund from vendors seeking to do business with the city. He was ordered to return the contributions. There were other, similar incidents reported, but without knowing who all of the donors were, there is no way to fully investigate and determine if that mess was ever fully cleaned up.

Marilyn Mosby has already been convicted on two counts of fraud and one count of perjury. She also stands accused of campaign finance "irregularities," as was her ex-husband. They were caught "forgetting" to pay their taxes and even their utility bills repeatedly. They seemed to treat the idea of holding public office in Baltimore the same as being handed the keys to the candy store. But through it all, they managed to charm much of the public as they played the role of victims. Even in the midst of all of these scandals, Marilyn Mosby still came within spitting distance of potentially being elected Mayor a couple of years ago. Perhaps that might have been fitting when you consider that a couple of other Baltimore mayors ended their terms prematurely to head for a stay in the Crowbar Motel.

The Mosbys will no doubt go down as legends in Baltimore politics for a long time to come. Not heroes, perhaps, but still legendary in their own way. They helped oversee an era when a once-great American city that was previously home to shipping empires and thriving commerce fell into a shocking state of decline. The population shrank, violence soared, gangs took over the streets, and the municipal government became more famous for corruption and graft than anything resembling good governance. We can still hope and pray that Baltimore might recover someday and return to its former era of glory. But it's certainly hard to see how at this point.