Saw a problem. Built the fix.

Fifty written questions to the City, over seven weeks, and a report built only from what came back: the City's own answers, its own spreadsheet, and its own reports to Council. $9,801,776 spent on the project so far. A licence bought and not in use. A contract to set the software up, ended early. A first finish date of 2018, now mid-2029. And the City's own audit office has never reviewed any of it.

The report ends with a motion Jon will bring if elected: appoint an Auditor General under the Municipal Act by giving those powers to the auditor the City already employs, and make this project the first review. Hamilton did exactly that in 2019 without adding a position. Candidates for mayor and council are signing on to vote for it, and their names and their own words are on the page.

Her sidewalk was fixed the day after Jon filed a formal records request asking how the repair list actually works. The man doing the work told her he had never been sent out that fast. Nobody could tell her where she had been in the queue, because there is no queue anyone can see.

So this keeps one. Stand in front of the broken slab, open the page, and it works out which street you are on and the nearest house number from the City's own address data — 50,857 of them. Take one photo, write one line, and it is done. An email arrives to check the address is really yours, and pressing the button in it is what sends the report: the City's real service request form, filled in and submitted in your name, with nobody in between. Every report then appears on a map anyone can look at: the day it was first flagged, how long it has been waiting, and whatever the City has said about it since. Replies from the City come back to the campaign and are passed straight on to the person who reported it.

Every photo is checked before it is published, so the map stays a record of broken concrete and nothing else. Names are never shown. Building it also turned up something nobody had noticed: seventeen Guelph streets, about 493 homes, are missing from the City's own sidewalk form altogether. They are almost all new subdivisions. If you live on one of them you cannot report a broken sidewalk to the City through their form at all — so those reports get flagged and taken to the City by hand instead.

The information existed. It was just spread across a City map, a boundary file and a candidate list that never spoke to each other. So Jon pulled all 53,796 Guelph civic addresses from the City's own published data, matched every one of them against the official ward boundaries, and put the answer behind a single search box.

Type a street name and it tells you your ward — and then who is running to represent you there in 2026, with links to every candidate's own site. Twenty-six Guelph streets cross a ward boundary (Gordon Street runs through four), so for those it asks for a house number and gets it exactly right.

It is also free to embed. Paste one line of code and the whole lookup appears on any website — neighbourhood associations, community groups, other campaigns, anyone at all. Helping people find their ward is not a partisan act, and a tool that only works for one candidate isn't much of a tool.

Rather than take a side, Jon read the books. Guelph Junction Railway is owned outright by the City and has been since 1910, so its audited financial statements are public. In 2025 it posted $2.4 million in profit and spent nothing at all on crossing equipment or bridge work — the same year it closed one.

The fix is a Rail Corridor Safety Fund: the railway sets aside a second payment, on top of the dividend it already sends the City, that can only be spent on safe, legal crossings along its own line. The dividend doesn't move. No line is added to anyone's tax bill. A share of the railway's own profit gets reinvested in the one corridor it is responsible for.

It is published as a full piece, with the exact motion to bring it to council, alongside every source document it rests on — five years of audited statements, the dividend policy, the shareholder declaration. Read it and check the work.

A 33-point gap between what people want to know and what they feel they're told is a problem the City could see in its own data. The report was public. It was just a long PDF written for council, reported out days before the summer.

So the whole thing got read — this year's and the previous years' — and rebuilt as a page anyone can follow in ten minutes: what residents actually said, what the City actually controls, and charts you can read at a glance. Every figure names the page of the report it came from, so nothing has to be taken on trust.

Two findings stand out. Roads and infrastructure went from 7% to 16% of residents naming it Guelph's most important issue, now tied with housing for first. And the share of residents who feel they get good value for their tax dollars is the lowest this survey has on record.