When Pedro “Pete” J. Arroyo resigned as chief deputy of the Comal County Constable’s Office for Precinct 4, the departure did not read like the quiet exit of a veteran nearing the end of a long career. Arroyo was not only a longtime Texas peace officer, but also a military veteran whose public-service background stretched across decades. Before joining Precinct 4 in July 2021, he served with the Austin Police Department, the Comal County Sheriff’s Office, the Converse Police Department, the San Antonio Airport Police Department, the Corpus Christi Police Department, and earlier as a jailer with the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office. By the time he submitted his resignation on Feb. 11, 2026, he was no ordinary departing employee. He was the office’s second-in-command, and the language of his resignation signaled that the break with first-term Constable Alice “Ali” Flores had become deeply personal and deeply professional at the same time.  

In his resignation letter, Arroyo wrote that a workplace grounded in “mutual respect” is essential to effectiveness and collaboration, and that he no longer believed Flores thought he met that standard. He initially set his resignation to take effect February 27, 2026, and wrote that he would continue to perform his duties through his final day to support continuity. On paper, that looked like a standard two-week notice. But the records show that within roughly twenty-four hours, the situation had shifted from a resignation with transition planning to a breakdown serious enough that Arroyo was told not to physically return to work, his duties were rerouted, and the office began building a detailed written case against him.  

Flores’ memo paints Arroyo as the problem

Flores’ version of events appears most fully in a four-page memorandum dated February 27, 2026. In it, she wrote that after a monthly deputies meeting on February 11, 2026, she pulled Arroyo aside to confront what she described as a failure to communicate, concerns about office efficiency while she was away at training, and what she believed was his lack of understanding of civil process. She wrote that she had observed over the prior year that Arroyo did not properly execute civil-process work, resisted learning, and even gave deputies misinformation. According to Flores, she told Arroyo she did not trust that civil-process tasks would be handled efficiently if she were away, and Arroyo then responded by deciding to write his resignation letter immediately.  

Flores’ memo also shows how quickly she moved to cut Arroyo out of the office’s internal transition. She wrote that the next morning, Deputy Vaughan called her to report discomfort with Arroyo’s attitude while showing him agency responsibilities, and that Deputy Steve Wright reported “negative energy” in the office. Flores then directed Arroyo to stop training Vaughan and instead prepare a written list of all of his duties, responsibilities, and ongoing projects. Later that same day, after consulting Human Resources, Flores wrote that she called Arroyo and informed him he no longer needed to physically report to work, even though his official last day would remain February 27, 2026.  

The documentary trail backs up at least part of that sequence. An email in the records shows Flores told Arroyo on February 12, 2026, to cease providing any further instruction or transfer of information to Deputy Vaughan and instead prepare a detailed written list of all tasks and projects he handled as chief deputy. Arroyo replied soon after with a one-word response, “Received.” Later that evening, Arroyo wrote Flores that, per their phone conversation that afternoon, he would not be reporting to work for the remaining two weeks, and Flores answered, “Okay, thank you.” The official separation notice later completed by Flores lists Arroyo’s last day worked as February 12, 2026, his effective separation date as February 27, 2026, and marks that she would not recommend him for rehire.  

The paper trail raises as many questions as it answers

Taken together, the records do more than show conflict. They show how the conflict was documented, and that timing matters. Flores’ most detailed accusations about Arroyo’s attitude, negativity, and supposed undermining of her leadership were formalized after he had already resigned, after she had already ordered him to stop training his replacement, and after she had already decided he should stay out of the office physically. Her own memorandum states that deputies expressed concerns once Arroyo was no longer present, and that she found it concerning they had not felt comfortable raising those issues earlier. That means the strongest written case against the veteran chief deputy was assembled after the office had already begun ushering him out the door.

That timing becomes even more notable when compared with Arroyo’s resignation letter. He did not resign by alleging misconduct or making a public spectacle. He wrote a restrained letter focused on respect and workplace standards, and he indicated he intended to work through the end of his notice period. Yet within a day, the transition he appears to have contemplated was effectively over, and Flores’ management response had become increasingly rigid, with HR involved, duties stripped away, return-of-property logistics moved outside the office, and eventual demands for immediate IT deactivation. Even if Flores believed those steps were justified, the records show a resignation that turned into an office rupture almost immediately.

Arroyo’s exit interview turns the story back on Flores

If Flores’ memorandum is her closing argument against Arroyo, Arroyo’s handwritten exit interview is his answer — and it is brutal. On the county’s official form, Arroyo marked “very dissatisfied” for supervisor leadership, and marked dissatisfaction in other categories including support from management and overall work environment. He then accused Flores of lacking leadership skills and lacking “the ability to make hard decisions” without going to an “out of county elected official” for direction. He described the office as a “toxic work environment,” wrote that Flores “does not accept responsibility” for actions that create friction with other departments and offices, and said the constable’s “narcissistic behavior” prompted him to begin looking for another opportunity.  

The lower portion of that same exit interview may be the most politically damaging part of the entire file. When asked whether he felt supported by his supervisor, Arroyo wrote, “The constable was all about herself and re-election.” When asked whether his achievements were recognized, he answered, “No. Usually it was all about the constable.” And when asked whether he would recommend the county as a place to work, he drew a distinction that is likely to resonate far beyond a single office. He said he would not recommend Constable Precinct 4, but that “the county is an excellent place to work. Good people.” That does not read like a man condemning government service generally. It reads like a longtime law-enforcement officer drawing a bright line between Comal County and the elected official running one of its small offices.  

Even after the resignation, a hard drive surfaced in Arroyo’s property

The most unsettling episode in the file came near the end of Arroyo’s separation. On February 26, 2026, Arroyo emailed Flores, the county attorney’s office, and a sheriff’s office official under the subject line “Lost Chain of Custody,” writing that a hard drive containing WatchGuard recordings related to arrests, citations, and civil process had been packed with his personal belongings. Arroyo wrote that the device had been removed from the secure JP-4 location, transported to HR, and ultimately wound up in his wife’s vehicle, where he said it remained for about six hours before he discovered it. He told Flores that the established chain of custody had been broken and instructed that a deputy, not Flores personally, retrieve the device from his residence.

Flores responded the same afternoon, thanking Arroyo for bringing the issue to her attention and apologizing for what she called an “unintentional oversight.” A separate memo from Deputy Steve Wright states that Flores directed him to retrieve the external hard drive from Arroyo’s residence and that Wright did so before placing it in the secured property room. Whatever explanation may exist, the records show that during an already contentious separation, agency media tied to arrests, citations, and civil process was apparently mixed into a departing chief deputy’s personal property and had to be recovered from his home. For an office responsible for civil process and law-enforcement functions, that detail alone is likely to raise questions about internal controls, supervision, and who exactly was ensuring the agency’s own procedures were being followed while Flores was building a written case that Arroyo was the one undermining professionalism.

The real story is bigger than one resignation

On its face, this is the story of a chief deputy who resigned and a constable who says she had good reason not to want him back. But the records tell a story about leadership, morale, and credibility inside a small public office where personal authority and public trust are closely tied together. Flores’ paperwork portrays Arroyo as negative, resistant, and disloyal. Arroyo’s own words portray Flores as insecure, self-focused, dependent on outside direction, and responsible for a toxic work environment that drove out a veteran subordinate.

That is why this file is likely to spark discussion well beyond Precinct 4. Readers can argue over whether Arroyo was a difficult subordinate, whether Flores acted decisively or defensively, or whether both things can be true at once. But what the records do not show is a clean, professional separation managed without controversy. They show a veteran chief deputy resigning over respect, a constable moving almost immediately to isolate him from the office, an exit interview that levels extraordinary accusations at an elected official, and a late-stage chain-of-custody problem involving agency recordings. Whatever side people take, the file leaves one hard question sitting squarely in public view. If this is how Comal County Precinct 4 handles the departure of its own chief deputy, what does that say about the state of leadership inside the office itself?

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