This indictment places the City of Las Vegas as a nominee on my list of the Worst Employers of 2026.

Not because a workplace homicide occurred. Employers can't stop every act of violence.

But because, according to public records obtained by FOX5, maintenance worker Joey McLean repeatedly begged management for help, warned that he feared for his life, and was allegedly murdered by the very co-worker he warned about.

First came an urgent transfer request: "I need the city to be flexible and help."

Then came an HR complaint that should stop every manager in their tracks. McLean alleged his co-worker was stalking him outside of work, had access to a firearm, claimed gang affiliation, and had become increasingly threatening. He ended with six chilling words: "I am afraid for my life."

Those words don't prove every allegation. They don't require an employer to accept one employee's account without question.

But they absolutely require action.

Instead, according to the records, one manager worried that granting an "emergency transfer" would encourage similar requests from other employees. The employees, the manager wrote, "need to learn to work together and have an amicable relationship."

That's breathtakingly tone-deaf.

When an employee says he fears another employee might kill him, the employer's first concern cannot be whether accommodating the request creates an administrative headache.

Employers aren't expected to guarantee perfect safety. But they are expected to take credible threats seriously, investigate promptly, separate employees when appropriate, and take reasonable steps to reduce foreseeable risks.

Whether the City of Las Vegas met its legal obligations is for others to decide.

What troubles me is something more fundamental.

Management wasn't blindsided. McLean didn't stay silent. He asked for help. He requested a transfer. He documented escalating conduct. He said he was afraid for his life.

Then, according to prosecutors, the very co-worker he warned management about shot and killed him.

Most workplace conflicts never become violent. But the ones that do often leave a trail of warnings.

The real test of workplace violence prevention isn't whether you have a policy in your handbook. It's whether you recognize those warnings before tragedy strikes.

When an employee tells you they're afraid for their life, don't worry about the precedent you'll set by acting. Worry about the consequences if you don't. And also worry about making my list of the year's worst employers.

      

      

When employees come to work, they should never have to wonder whether the next email from the boss will contain a work assignment or a sermon.

That's the issue at the heart of a new lawsuit against USDA Secretary Brooke Rollins.

A group of federal employees and their union have asked a federal court to block Rollins from sending agency-wide emails that preach her personal Christian beliefs to roughly 100,000 Department of Agriculture employees. The plaintiffs allege that despite already being sued over the practice, Rollins has continued using official USDA communications to quote Scripture and deliver explicitly evangelical messages—not just on Easter and Christmas, but now on Memorial Day and Independence Day as well. They are asking the court to stop the messages before the next major Christian holiday arrives.

According to the lawsuit, this isn't merely an elected official acknowledging religion or wishing employees a happy holiday. The complaint alleges that Rollins has repeatedly used official government email to proclaim that "Jesus has been raised from the dead," refer to "our faith," "our risen Lord," and "the greatest story ever told," while speaking as the head of a federal agency to employees required to read her communications. The plaintiffs argue that these messages communicate that Christianity is the preferred faith within USDA and pressure employees of different faiths—or no faith at all—to conform.

Whether the plaintiffs ultimately prevail on their Establishment Clause claims is for the courts to decide.

But from an employment-law perspective, the allegations illustrate a much more universal principle.

Power changes everything.

A conversation about religion between two friends is one thing. The same conversation between a supervisor and an employee is something entirely different. The law recognizes that employees don't experience communications from their bosses as ordinary conversations. Supervisors control evaluations, promotions, assignments, discipline, and careers. Employees know that. Even when no threat is made, the imbalance of power creates pressure.

That's why Title VII requires employers to accommodate employees' sincerely held religious beliefs while simultaneously prohibiting religious harassment. It protects an employee's right to practice a religion. It also protects an employee's right not to have someone else's religion imposed upon them.

Those protections don't disappear because the speaker sincerely believes what they're saying.

In fact, sincerity is beside the point.

The issue isn't whether Secretary Rollins has the right to hold or express her Christian beliefs in her personal life. Of course she does.

The question is whether the head of a federal agency should use the machinery of government—and mandatory workplace communications—to evangelize a captive audience of employees.

That's a workplace issue every employer should understand.

Most employers would never tolerate a manager repeatedly sending department-wide emails urging employees to attend church, quoting Scripture, or telling employees that salvation comes through Jesus Christ. HR would shut it down immediately, not because religion is unwelcome in the workplace, but because coercion is.

The problem, however, is that proselytizing in the workplace is inherently coercive.

It blurs the line between personal belief and professional conduct. It pressures coworkers—especially subordinates—to nod along, stay quiet, or risk being labeled difficult, disrespectful, or even insubordinate.

And while defenders often frame these efforts as promoting religious liberty, they frequently accomplish the opposite. They open the door to exclusion, marginalization, and retaliation against employees who decline a coworker's or boss's invitation to Bible study or object to being told they're going to hell over coffee or lunch.

That doesn't promote inclusion.

It undermines it.

And it doesn't protect religious liberty.

It weaponizes it.

Employees have the absolute right to practice the religion of their choice—or none at all. That right is personal, private, and protected. It's no one else's business.

The workplace is not a pulpit, and no employee should ever feel pressured to conform to, participate in, or endorse an employer's, supervisor's, or coworker's religious beliefs or practices.

Anything less violates the core principles that Title VII was designed to protect, regardless of what any administration—or any employer—might prefer.

     

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The employee claimed that the employer denied his accommodation request without engaging in a meaningful interactive process despite medical evidence that the Manhattan office and commute aggravated his respiratory disabilities.

Whether the requested accommodation was actually reasonable is a question for another day. The 2nd Circuit expressly declined to answer it. Indeed, the real lesson for employers isn't about remote work at all. It's about process.

Too many employers treat accommodation requests as problems to defeat instead of workplace problems to solve. The ADA does not require an employer to grant an employee's preferred accommodation, but it does require a thoughtful, individualized process—evaluating the request, considering alternatives, engaging in a genuine dialogue, and documenting why a proposed accommodation will or will not work.

That process becomes even more important when the employee has already performed the job successfully under the same or a similar arrangement. Prior remote work does not permanently entitle an employee to work from home. Business needs change, job duties evolve, and temporary pandemic practices do not necessarily become permanent essential-function determinations. But if an arrangement worked for an extended period and the employer now says it cannot work, the employer should be prepared to explain what changed—and support that explanation with facts, not assumptions.

A well-supported, well-documented accommodation analysis may keep a dispute from becoming a lawsuit. And if litigation follows, it gives the employer its best chance at a good resolution. Without it, however, an employer can win the discrimination and retaliation battles and still spend years fighting the reasonable accommodation war.

     

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When Employees Are Held Accountable for AI-Generated Decisions — via Harvard Business Review

     

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