A Maine firefighter whose pandemic wedding Troy Jackson officiated is now slamming the Senate hopeful in a hard-hitting ad for Susan Collins over a cellphone tower on Jackson’s relatives’ land.
Ronnie Pelletier, a firefighter from tiny Allagash, is throwing his support behind incumbent Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) and tearing into Democratic challenger Troy Jackson over how a rural cellphone tower ended up on property tied to Jackson’s family. The New York Post reported the ad and Pelletier’s account of what happened in their shared hometown.
Jackson, the former Maine Senate president, grew up in Allagash, a town of 234 people about 25 miles from the Canadian border. He officiated Pelletier’s wedding during the pandemic. Now the same man is starring in a scathing spot that questions Jackson’s role in landing the tower for relatives.
The attack lands in a tight race. Collins holds a slim 0.2 percentage point edge over Jackson in the latest RealClearPolitics poll aggregate, and she has a record of beating the polls, including in the 2020 cycle.
In the ad, Pelletier walks through what he says he saw while working for the town a few years ago.
Pelletier recalled the first approach from the company.
"A few years ago, I was working for the town, and a couple of gentlemen came into the office,"
He said the visitors pointed to public land as the strongest option.
"The gentleman from the cell phone tower company had told me that the best reception and coverage would be from the schoolhouse lot that the town owns."
Then, he said, Jackson showed up fast.
"Maybe a day later, Troy Jackson had pulled into my driveway,"
Pelletier claimed Jackson then guided the company around possible locations.
"He was riding them around, showing them the sites. So after Troy Jackson got involved showing them the sights. The tower was then built on one of Troy’s family members’ properties, and the tower went down there."
His closer left the judgment to viewers.
"Make of it what you will."
The property belongs to Louis and Patricia, the parents of Lana Pelletier. Lana is Jackson’s longtime partner and the mother of his children. Maine Wire reporting cited in the coverage also notes Jackson and Lana are second cousins who share great-grandparents. Ronnie Pelletier is not related to Louis and Patricia.
Before better service arrived, Allagash residents often had to route calls through Canada because coverage was so thin. Rural towers can bring landowners $500 to $1,000 a month in rent, though how much, if anything, Jackson’s relatives receive was not clear.
Robert Parsloe, owner of Wireless Partners, LLC, the firm that installed the Allagash tower, strongly disputed any suggestion of a fix. He said the company looked at several options, including the schoolhouse lot, and simply found a landowner willing to host the structure.
Parsloe described the hard economics of new towers and the social blowback that comes with them.
"It’s just really expensive to build new towers. It’s a pain. You alienate people,"
He said the firm did not start with a preferred family name on a deed.
"We found this area... we knew nothing about landowners at that point."
And he stressed the basic requirement that made the deal possible.
"We found a willing landowner,"
Parsloe added that few people want an “ugly” tower in the yard, and that big carriers will not lock into long-term rent on land just because a local politician prefers it. Allies of Jackson have also pushed back on the idea that he improperly steered the project.
The fight fits a broader pattern in the Maine Senate contest, where Collins has kept pressure on Jackson’s record and the Democratic bench around him, including moments when Collins put her challenger’s controversies on camera and forced the race into sharper focus.
Pelletier’s break with Jackson did not stop at the tower ad. After a debate, he sat for an MS NOW interview and unloaded on Jackson’s performance and temperament.
He said the online reaction matched what he saw on stage.
"I watched it, and then I read all the comments, and it was not good,"
Pelletier went further on attitude under pressure.
"You looked at Troy’s attitude, and it’s like he was insulted to be there. He got pissed. He either does not do well under pressure, or he does not get along with others."
His verdict on the leap from state politics to the U.S. Senate was blunt.
"He’s going from a small pond into the big ocean, and it’s not going to end well,"
That kind of hometown dissent is costly in a state that rewards familiarity and steady habits. It also lands atop other headaches for Jackson, from late national backing such as when Kamala Harris endorsed the late nominee to older personal controversies Collins has kept in view.
Voters have already seen the race turn on character questions, including coverage of a 1988 police report describing Jackson kicking in a door and punching a romantic rival and later rounds in which Collins highlighted resurfaced assault allegations while Maine Democrats scrambled on vetting.
Jackson has tried to run as a populist voice against big money. That message sits uneasily beside questions about favors, family land, and who gets the quiet monthly check from a carrier, especially after reporting on how a PAC he led took corporate checks even as he hammered “greed” on the trail.
Collins remains the incumbent with a narrow polling lead and a proven ability to outrun the numbers. Jackson remains the former state Senate president who can claim deep North Woods roots, and now has to explain why a man whose wedding he blessed is narrating an ad about a tower on the partner’s parents’ land.
Pelletier’s story is simple on its face: town workers heard the schoolhouse lot was best, Jackson appeared the next day, and the tower rose on family ground. Parsloe’s reply is just as plain: willing landowner, tough build, no carrier does long-term deals as a political favor. Maine voters can weigh both.
In a state that still prizes straight dealing, a hometown firefighter turning on the local power broker is the kind of problem money and party machinery cannot paper over.
