She Wouldn’t Remove the Books—So They Removed Her
She was told to burn the books or lose her job—so she chose her job, her reputation, and 27 years of service over silence.
Terri Lesley had worked at the Campbell County Public Library in Gillette, Wyoming, for 27 years. For 11 of those years, she served as executive director. She knew every aisle, every patron, every book on those shelves.
In June 2021, the library posted about Pride Month on Facebook—a simple acknowledgment of books in their collection. What happened next was unprecedented.
A small group of residents—just 17 people—filed 57 formal challenges against 29 different books. They demanded removal. They called Terri and her staff criminals. They reported her to the sheriff, demanding prosecution for distributing what they called obscene materials.
A special prosecutor investigated. His conclusion? The books weren’t obscene. Not even close.
But the pressure didn’t stop. It intensified.
County commissioners who agreed with the activists began replacing library board members—one by one—with people who shared their views. By 2023, four of the five board positions had been filled with new appointees.
The reconstituted board had one mission: get Terri Lesley to remove the books or remove her.
She refused to censor. She stood on the First Amendment. She believed that a public library serves everyone—not just the loudest voices.
In July 2023, the board voted 4-1 to fire her. After 27 years. After building that library system into something the community relied on. Gone.
When the firing happened, hundreds of people showed up to the meeting. Most came to support Terri. Only a few dozen backed the board’s decision.
But by then, it didn’t matter. The decision was made.
Terri could have walked away. Many people in her position would have. She’d lost her job, her income, her professional reputation in a community where she’d spent nearly three decades.
Instead, she filed a federal lawsuit.
She alleged discrimination, retaliation, and constitutional violations. She claimed that county officials and library board members had aligned themselves with a campaign of fear rather than defending the rights of all community members.
The county fought back. They denied everything. They said she was fired for “performance issues.” They hired expensive attorneys. They made it clear they weren’t backing down.
For two years, Terri fought. Through depositions, legal filings, public scrutiny, and the exhausting process of making your private pain a matter of public record.
This week, it ended. Campbell County agreed to pay Terri Lesley $700,000 to settle her lawsuit.
The settlement includes no admission of wrongdoing. But $700,000 from taxpayers speaks loudly about what happens when government officials cross constitutional lines.
“I do feel vindicated,” Terri told reporters. “It’s been a rough road, but I will never regret standing up for the First Amendment.”
Her attorney put it more directly: “Elected and appointed officials need to represent the interests of their entire community, not just a small band of activists.”
This isn’t just about one library or one librarian. It’s about a nationwide movement. The American Library Association documented 4,240 unique book titles targeted for censorship in 2023 alone—a 65% increase over 2022.
PEN America recorded nearly 23,000 book bans in public schools since 2021. That’s 23,000 times someone decided certain books were too dangerous for young minds.
Most of these challenges aren’t coming from concerned parents who read something troubling. They’re coming from organized groups downloading lists from advocacy websites and demanding removal of dozens or hundreds of books at once—books they’ve often never read.
Terri’s case proves something important: there are consequences for turning libraries into political battlegrounds.
But her fight isn’t over. She still has a separate lawsuit pending against three residents who she says defamed her, caused her emotional distress, and tried to force her compliance through intimidation. That case goes to trial in March 2026.
Terri Lesley still lives in Gillette. She’s a fourth-generation Wyoming resident who describes her state as “live and let live.” She doesn’t believe the activists represent most people.
“My hope,” she said, “is that this will be a deterrent—that we can shut down all these censorship efforts in Wyoming and beyond.”
She lost her job. She endured two years of public attacks, legal battles, and community division.
But she kept the books on the shelves. She defended the principle that libraries serve everyone. And she proved that constitutional rights still matter—even when powerful people don’t want them to.
Sometimes the cost of doing what’s right is everything you’ve built. Sometimes you pay it anyway.
And sometimes, eventually, the people who made you pay end up writing a very large check.
