Rose Pugliese, the Colorado House Minority Leader and top Republican in the state House, has resigned from her post following a heated clash with Democratic lawmakers and a scandal over a secretly taken photograph of a Democratic colleague.
The Washington Examiner reported that the saga unfolded with Pugliese stepping down on Monday, after a special session marked by partisan friction and a troubling incident involving a fellow Republican lawmaker’s inappropriate behavior.
Let’s rewind to the root of this mess. Pugliese, who took the helm as House Minority Leader in 2024 after replacing Mike Lynch—himself forced out over a failure to disclose a drunk driving arrest and firearm possession while intoxicated—stepped into a role already tainted by controversy. Her tenure was meant to steady the ship, but the waters only got choppier.
During a recent special session, Pugliese found herself at odds with Democratic lawmakers, a clash that set the stage for her eventual exit.
But the real bombshell came from within her own party’s ranks. It’s the kind of drama that makes you wonder if some politicians ever learned basic decency.
Republican state Rep. Ryan Armagost, the former House minority whip, secretly snapped a photo of Democratic state Rep. Yara Zokaie during floor proceedings. He didn’t just keep it to himself—he shared it in a group chat with fellow Republican lawmakers. And, predictably, things got ugly fast.
In that group chat, some Republican lawmakers stooped to comparing Zokaie’s outfit to the attire worn by strippers and prostitutes.
This wasn’t just locker room talk; it was a shameful display that spilled over into a social media harassment campaign targeting Zokaie. How this reflects on the party of “family values” is anyone’s guess.
Pugliese was part of that group chat, though she didn’t join in the derogatory commentary. Still, her presence in the conversation raises questions about the culture within her caucus. If you’re in the room when the mud is slung, does silence make you complicit?
It took Pugliese three months after learning about the photo to strip Armagost of his committee assignments.
Three months—hardly a swift condemnation of behavior that most folks would call out in three minutes. This delay doesn’t exactly scream “zero tolerance” for misconduct.
Armagost, for his part, resigned abruptly before Pugliese’s own departure, perhaps seeing the writing on the wall.
But the damage was done, both to Zokaie, who endured public humiliation, and to the Republican brand in Colorado. It’s a self-inflicted wound in a state where conservatives already face an uphill battle.
In her letter to supporters, Pugliese cited personal reasons for leaving office, emphasizing her role as a single mother. “I have spent months reflecting on my life choices, especially in relation to my children,” she wrote. It’s a sentiment that tugs at the heartstrings, even if the timing feels awfully convenient.
She continued with raw honesty about her family’s needs. “As a single mom, I raise my two children on my own. I am all that they have.”
Her words paint a picture of sacrifice, and it’s hard not to empathize with a parent putting family first. But let’s not kid ourselves—resigning amid a scandal like this also smells like damage control. Personal reasons may be real, but they don’t erase the political context.
Pugliese’s exit isn’t an isolated incident in Colorado’s Republican leadership. Her predecessor, Mike Lynch, stepped down under his own cloud of legal troubles, and even Colorado Senate Minority Leader Paul Lundeen resigned in 2025 to take a job with a conservative organization.
Regarding the photo incident, Pugliese told CPR News last month, “I take this matter very seriously and do not condone this behavior.”
Fair enough, but actions speak louder than words, and a three-month delay in disciplining Armagost undercuts the sincerity. In a world obsessed with progressive overreach, shouldn’t conservatives lead by example on personal accountability?