Eddie Sajjad
From Ballotpedia
Eddie Sajjad (Democratic Party) is running for election for Fort Bend County Judge in Texas. He is on the ballot in the Democratic primary on March 3, 2026.[source]
Sajjad completed Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection survey in 2025. Click here to read the survey answers.
Elections
2026
See also: Municipal elections in Fort Bend County, Texas (2026)
General election
The primary will occur on March 3, 2026. The general election will occur on November 3, 2026. General election candidates will be added here following the primary.
Democratic primary
Democratic primary for Fort Bend County Judge
J. Christian Becerra (D), Rachelle Carter (D), Cynthia Lenton-Gary (D), Dexter McCoy (D), and Eddie Sajjad (D) are running in the Democratic primary for Fort Bend County Judge on March 3, 2026.
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 = candidate completed the Ballotpedia Candidate Connection survey. | ||||
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Withdrawn or disqualified candidates
- Ferrel Bonner (D)
- Nabil Shike (D)
Republican primary
Republican primary for Fort Bend County Judge
Incumbent KP George (R), Daryl Aaron (R), Kenneth Omoruyi (R), Melissa M. Wilson (R), and Daniel Wong (R) are running in the Republican primary for Fort Bend County Judge on March 3, 2026.
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| = candidate completed the Ballotpedia Candidate Connection survey. | ||||
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Endorsements
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Campaign themes
2026
Ballotpedia survey responses
See also: Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection
Eddie Sajjad completed Ballotpedia's Candidate Connection survey in 2025. The survey questions appear in bold and are followed by Sajjad's responses.
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I’m Eddie Sajjad—a 28-year Fort Bend resident, entrepreneur, and technology mentor who builds practical solutions to real problems. My standard is simple: Demand more than words. Demand a plan. For over two decades I’ve led teams, built modern, data-driven tools, and helped founders turn good ideas into systems that deliver. I’m running for Fort Bend County Judge because families are paying more while basics lag—safer roads, flood readiness, responsive services, and transparent use of tax dollars. I’ve spent years doing the work to close that gap with ready-to-execute initiatives: voter-access tools that make participation easier (VOTCEN); small-business and jobs programs to lower barriers and grow opportunity (Shared Plate Community Kitchen and Foodie Park concepts); an energy-readiness framework to keep households and employers resilient (Watt Works); and public dashboards so anyone can track county projects by dates, dollars, and delivery. My technology background is a county asset: modernize 311 and permitting, use data to target flooding and safety hot spots, and post clear metrics so residents can see what’s working—and fix what isn’t. As County Judge, I’ll lead like a builder—set priorities, measure what matters, and deliver results you can feel in daily life. You’ll get a public project tracker and budgets you can follow. For a county government that’s reachable, reliable, and ready, see the full plan and get involved at EddieForFB.com.
- Grow revenue without raising taxes. Fort Bend now gets about 83% of its county revenue from homeowners. That’s upside-down. My plan is to grow the pie by helping small businesses start, hire, and expand: a one-stop permit center with 10-day deadlines, online filings, and clear checklists; fee relief for startups and expansions; “Buy Fort Bend” and Local-First purchasing; public-private deals that land real destinations—dining, retail, auto, events; a hard push for state and federal grants; and practical help for minority- and women-owned firms. We’ll fund roads, drainage, safety, and fair pay by growing income—not by raising your tax rate—and we’ll show the results.
- Keep our dollars in Fort Bend. Families spend well over 75% of their leisure dollars outside the county. Let’s turn that around. I’ll make Fort Bend the easiest place to build and the best place to spend: fast-track approvals for restaurants, retail, auto, and mixed-use districts; recruit signature steakhouses, food halls, and shopping streets; upgrade parks, trails, and event space; and grow festivals, sports, and cultural weekends. We’ll launch a countywide “Shop • Dine • Drive Fort Bend” push so big purchases and nights out stay local. When people choose Fort Bend first, sales, hotel, and venue revenue rise—without a higher tax bill.
- Service, speed, and accountability that power growth. Prosperity needs great basics. I’ll publish a county Projects Tracker—dates, dollars, delivery—for roads, drainage, parks, and readiness. We’ll modernize 311 and permitting, set service deadlines, and post on-time stats so people can see how we’re doing. Data will drive fixes for flood and public-safety hot spots, with tighter coordination across cities and schools. We’ll also launch practical AI and small-business upskilling so local firms can compete and hire here. Clear rules, fair enforcement, and open books make every dollar work harder—and every neighborhood feel the gains.
Diversifying county revenue so we can invest without raising taxes; small-business growth with fast permits, one-stop help, fair fees, and Local-First purchasing; keeping leisure dollars in-county through better parks, events, restaurants, retail, and tourism; infrastructure and flood work prioritized by need and data; strong public safety and emergency management with common-sense mental-health partnerships; modern 311, online permits, and responsible tech to cut wait times and errors; truly transparent budgets, vendor payments, and a public project tracker so residents can see where money goes and what it delivers.
I look up to my father. In Pakistan he held real authority and a comfortable life, and he walked away rather than bend to corruption. In Queens he took any honest work that kept us afloat, driving a cab and delivering pizza without asking for pity or a shortcut. He taught me that integrity is not a speech. It is a choice you make when it costs you something. I also learn from people who are not on posters or stages. The teacher who keeps showing up even when the respect and pay do not match the work. The county worker who stays on the phone until a family has a next step. The shop owner who keeps the lights on through thin months because the neighborhood still needs that place. Their resolve under pressure is the kind of leadership I believe in. I am Pakistani born, American by oath, Texan by stubborn optimism, Fort Bend resident by love and commitment. You do not have to choose between where you came from and where you belong. The example I want to follow in office is simple. Tell the truth even when it is hard. Keep your word. Spend public money like it is your own. Apply the rules the same to everyone and say no when a favor would break trust. Set clear goals, align the budget to those goals, and show the receipts so people can see progress without having to ask. If I say it, there will be a plan and a date. If it slips, you will hear it from me first with the fix. I do not need this job. I want it because Fort Bend deserves leadership that does not flinch and that delivers. Integrity first, integrity second, integrity third.
Integrity first, integrity second, integrity third. Tell the truth, keep your word, and serve everyone—not a faction, not a donor list, not a party. Once elected, partisanship takes a back seat to the oath. Every resident is your constituent, and the job is to do the right thing even when no one is watching. That means fair rules applied the same way to everyone; transparent budgets and contracts; open meetings; a public projects tracker (dates • dollars • delivery); and real accountability when timelines slip. It means refusing favoritism and turning down pressure to “do a favor.” I don’t need this job, and I won’t trade principles to keep it. Competence matters, too: set measurable goals, align the budget to those goals, and publish the scorecard so people can see progress without asking. Innovation matters: use modern technology and data to cut wait times, reduce errors, and target resources where they do the most good. Humility matters: listen first, decide promptly, credit the team, and own the result. In short—integrity, fairness, competence, transparency, and the courage to say “no” when “no” is what protects the public.
The County Judge is the county’s chief executive and emergency-management lead. The core responsibilities are to set clear priorities, build a budget that funds those priorities, and operate a reliable, nonpartisan service organization every day. Chair Commissioners Court with discipline; keep open books; and deliver what families feel: safer roads, flood mitigation that actually lowers risk, responsive 311 and permitting, strong public safety, and parks and spaces that keep dollars local. Lead on revenue diversification without raising tax rates by making Fort Bend the easiest place to start, hire, expand, dine, shop, and invest—so homeowners aren’t carrying 80%+ of the load. Modernize operations with real technology—online workflows, service-level guarantees, data dashboards—so residents and small businesses get predictable answers and so we can fix bottlenecks fast. As emergency manager, plan, train, and coordinate with cities, schools, hospitals, utilities, and state/federal partners before the storm, not after. Finally, build the public Projects Tracker and vendor/payment transparency so anyone can see where money goes and what it delivers. The job is stewardship: set the course, marshal the team, measure what matters, and deliver—always with integrity and fairness at the center.
I want my legacy to be a county people trust and an economy that no longer leans on homeowners. Today most county revenue comes from residents. I want Fort Bend remembered for turning that around by growing business activity and keeping more spending here without raising tax rates. I want us known as the easiest place in Texas to start, hire, and expand, with clear rules, fast answers, and help that arrives on time. I want open books that anyone can read and a public projects tracker that shows dates, dollars, and delivery for roads, drainage, parks, and emergency readiness. Who to call, what happens next, how long it will take. I want a modern 311 and permitting system that gives predictable timelines and publishes on time performance, so people see results instead of hearing excuses. I want festivals, sports, dining, and retail that keep families here on weekends, so sales and hotel revenue rise while homeowners get a fairer share. I want a county that prepares before the storm, trains with partners, communicates clearly in many languages, and protects every neighborhood. I want small businesses to say the county helped them grow, not got in their way. I want county employees to say their work mattered and the public could see it. And I want residents to say leadership told the truth, kept its word, and did not play favorites. I do not need this job and I will not trade principles to keep it. If I say it, there will be a plan and a date, and you will be able to see the progress without asking. That is the legacy I am working for: integrity you can feel, services you can count on, and shared prosperity that lets every family move forward.
The first history I really remember comes in two chapters. The first was 1989, when I was nine and my family left a protected oil company colony in Pakistan for a rough block in Queens. Almost everything fell at once. The quiet lanes where I rode a bike became sirens and crowded sidewalks. My father, who had led natural gas operations back home, drove a taxi and delivered pizza so we could stay afloat. School was a shock of its own. I was one of the only South Asian kids in a building that was almost entirely African American, a culture I barely knew. I had to learn how to belong without losing myself and how to move forward when nothing felt familiar. We later moved to Houston. Alief was a melting pot and that helped, but it was still a maze for a kid learning a new country. From 1989 to 1996 I slipped into a long depression and then slowly climbed out. By 1996 I had friends, steady work, a little money, and for the first time I felt at home and hopeful. The second chapter was September 11. I was twenty one, a senior at the University of Houston, on track to graduate with honors in 2002 in Management Information Systems and to be a top recruit. I remember looking at the screen and thinking it could not be real. What followed reached into classrooms, offices, and friendships. Some people looked at us with suspicion. There was talk about deportations. Recruiters who had been eager to meet stopped calling back. Doors closed quietly. Many Americans carry memories of that day. Many Muslim Americans also carry the weight that came after. Those years did not leave me bitter. They made me clear about what leadership owes people. Tell the truth. Lower the temperature. Set fair rules that are the same for everyone. Prepare before a crisis and keep people informed so they know what happens next and how long it will take. Those lessons from a boy in Queens and a senior in Houston are the reason I lead the way I do today.
My first job was on the kitchen line at Popeyes when I was 16. It was hot, fast, and humbling—timers beeping, fryers hissing, biscuit trays in and out like a pit crew. I won’t pretend I loved it, but I showed up, learned the rhythm, and took pride in getting orders right when the dinner rush hit. I lasted just under six months before moving toward what I really cared about—computers. Those paychecks bought my first parts; the lessons bought something better: respect for frontline work, an obsession with clear processes, and the belief that good systems make hard jobs easier. That’s stayed with me ever since.
The Power of Now is my favorite book because it gave me a way to handle noise. I picked it up when life felt loud and I try to use it every day. I did not read it and change overnight. I still get pulled into hurry and distraction. But practice helps. I try to pause before I speak. I try to listen without writing my reply in my head. When a day goes off the rails, I try to breathe, name what is really happening, and choose the next useful step. Some days I forget and catch myself later. Then I reset. The book helps me separate facts from the story I am telling myself. It helps me give the person in front of me more attention than the phone. It helps me finish the task that matters instead of chasing ten at once. The result is fewer snap reactions, clearer choices, and more finished work. In public service that practice matters. Residents need someone who will hear them, not rush past them. Presence helps me ask the right question, line up the right people, and lay out a simple plan with who will do what and by when. It keeps meetings focused, keeps updates honest, and moves us from talk to delivery. It fits the way I lead. Demand more than words. Demand a plan. Then do the work in front of you. I will never be perfect at it, but I show up, pay attention, and keep practicing. That is why this book stays within reach. It reminds me to be here now so I can serve well and produce results people can feel.
If I have to pick one, I choose Mr. Incredible. That is harder to say than it sounds because I grew up with Superman and Batman. As a kid I drew their logos in the margins of my notebooks and turned bedsheets into capes. Superman was pure ideal. Batman was grit and discipline. I wanted to be both. Then I watched The Incredibles and Mr. Incredible felt human in a way that surprised me. He is a dad, a husband, and a hero who is not perfect. He wants to help and sometimes pushes too hard. He gets frustrated. He breaks something and then has to fix it. He learns to ask for help, to listen to his wife, to trust his kids, and to let the whole family be part of the solution. What saves the day is not just strength. It is humility, teamwork, and the choice to show up again after a bad day. I also love the craft in that film. The color, the music, the way a simple scene at a desk can say more about purpose than a thousand explosions. It reminds me that real heroism looks ordinary most of the time. Holding the door when your arms are full. Keeping a promise when you are tired. Saying I was wrong and then doing the work to make it right. Mr. Incredible uses what he has to make life better, learns from his mistakes, and brings people with him. That is the part that stays with me. On my best days that is who I try to be. Show up. Tell the truth. Do the work. Finish the job.
Something I have struggled with is the gap between intent and impact. I am straightforward. At times I have been too candid and a true point landed in the wrong way, because I did not shape it with care. I am learning to pause, breathe, and choose words that carry the meaning I intend. Another struggle is optimism versus realism. I am an optimist. Hope keeps me moving and makes me aim higher. I also know that optimism without numbers is just wishful thinking. So I work to anchor big goals in facts, budgets, and timelines. Being mislabeled or misunderstood has also been hard. Rather than fight labels, I try to explain my thinking clearly and then show it in my work. Over time consistency changes minds. Focus has been a challenge too. My brain generates ideas all day. That is a gift and a trap. I have had to build simple habits that keep me on track. Write the plan. Pick the owner. Set the date. Finish. Then move to the next thing. I keep a board that shows what is planned, what is in progress, and what is done so the team and I see the same picture. I also use modern tools, including AI, to sort ideas, test them against facts, and turn them into clear next steps. The goal is not to have fewer ideas. The goal is to finish the right ones. These struggles have made me a steadier leader. Speak with care so intent matches impact. Pair optimism with realism so promises become results. Protect focus so important work gets finished. This is how I plan to serve. Set priorities we can fund. Publish service standards so people know what to expect. Limit what we take on so we can finish what matters and report progress in plain numbers. I am not looking for perfect. I am looking for honest, visible progress that people can feel in daily life.
I do not have one story that towers above the rest. What moved me were the hundreds that rhyme. After 2016 I kept hearing versions of the same pain. A parent told to go back. A kid mocked for a name or a scarf. A shop owner watched harder than others. Neighbors who once waved now looking away. We live in one of the most diverse counties in the country, and that should be our strength, but the mood changed and it stuck. I kept looking for real answers. I met people, listened, read, asked what would actually make life here feel safer and more fair. I did not see enough from our current leadership to counter what national politics unleashed. Maybe there was never real unity to begin with. Maybe we only told ourselves there was. That is why I stepped forward. I want to build unity you can feel, not slogans. Bring people together before there is a problem. Create spaces where cultures learn each other, not just pass by. Speak to residents in the languages they use at home. Set rules that are the same for everyone and explain them in plain words. Celebrate what we share and also protect what makes each community itself. The stories I have heard since 2016 did not make me bitter. They gave me a job to do. Help people feel at home in the place they already live. That is the work I am signing up for.
The accomplishment I am proudest of is private and simple. It is being the kind of man my kids call “best dad ever,” the kind of son who hears “we love you, we are proud of you,” and the kind of friend someone trusts enough to say “I needed you and you showed up.” I can point to diplomas, wins, businesses, and awards, and I am grateful for all of them, but the moments that land are smaller and heavier. A hug at the door after a long day. A late night talk that ends with a quiet “thanks, Dad.” A call from my parents where their voices soften and they tell me I did right by the family. A friend who texts after a hard week and says I made it easier just by being there. Those are the times I feel real pride, because the people who know me best do not grade me on posts or titles. They know whether I kept my word, whether I listened, whether I carried my share. I am not perfect. I miss things and I learn. But I try to be present, to tell the truth, to keep showing up, and to leave people better than I found them. That is the hunger that does not go away in me. Set a standard, fall short sometimes, get back up, do it better the next time. If there is an accomplishment that sums me up, it is this one. I am proud that the people who matter most can look me in the eye and say I am the dad, the son, and the friend they can count on.
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See also
2026 Elections
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