The Rats Jump Ship: Roselle’s Denise Wilkerson Plays Musical Chairs with Political Loyalties While the Borough Burns

The stench of opportunism hangs thick over Roselle, a borough already choking on the exhaust of broken promises and backroom betrayals.

At the center of it all, Councilwoman Denise Wilkerson—a political chameleon with the loyalty of a stray dog in a butcher shop—has once again proven that her principles are as durable as wet tissue paper.

Just three years ago, Wilkerson was the golden child of Jersey City Mayor Steve Fulop’s Coalition for Progress super PAC, a cash-flushed operation that dumped thousands into glossy mailers singing her praises as Roselle’s savior.

Fulop, a gubernatorial hopeful with his own ambitions, bet on Wilkerson as a reliable ally in Union County.

Wilkerson defeated challenger Brandis Puryear, an Irvington police detective, in the 2022 Democratic primary. She was on the organization line that year, but she won ‘off the line’ in 2019 on a slate headed by then-Mayor Christine Dansereau.

At a recent rally at Heard AME Church—a raucous, sweat-soaked spectacle where Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, the firebrand progressive, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Wilkerson’s rival, Councilwoman Cynthia Johnson—the team lit up the crowd with promises of revolution .

And just like that, Wilkerson’s spine dissolved.

Faster than you can say “election-year calculus,” she tossed Fulop overboard and clambered onto the Baraka bandwagon, wagging her tail for the African American voters who dominate Roselle’s electorate.

The move reeked of desperation—a naked ploy to cling to power by any means necessary. Observers shrugged; this was classic Wilkerson.

But let’s not forget the carcasses she’s left behind.

Former Mayor Christine Dansereau, Wilkerson’s one-time running mate, has been spitting venom about her since their alliance crumbled like a stale cookie.

Dansereau, who resigned
mid-term citing health struggles but left behind a legacy of stability, now paints Wilkerson as a backstabber of Shakespearean proportions.

The irony? Wilkerson’s betrayal of Fulop mirrors her abandonment of Dansereau—a pattern so predictable it’s almost boring.

Meanwhile, Roselle teeters on the edge of chaos. The borough’s government is a clown car of dysfunction—a Republican fire chief moonlighting as acting business administrator, a CFO who clocks in once a week, and a council more focused on survival than service.

Wilkerson’s flip-flopping isn’t just hypocrisy; it’s a dereliction of duty. But in the swamp of New Jersey politics, where allegiances shift with the wind, her dance of shame is just another Tuesday.

Fulop’s PAC may have bought her loyalty, but Baraka’s rally exposed the truth: Wilkerson doesn’t stand for Roselle—she stands for whatever keeps her name on the ballot.

As the June 10 primary looms, one thing’s certain: the rats always know when to jump ship. The question is, will the voters of Roselle finally drown them?