MADISON, Wis. — A Wisconsin legislator has pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor count of disorderly conduct in connection with a bitter feud with her caucus over resolutions honoring Hispanics.

Prosecutors in Milwaukee County charged state Rep. Sylvia Ortiz-Velez in February. Online court records show the Milwaukee Democrat entered the guilty plea Friday, and Judge Paul Malloy ordered her to pay a $300 fine and submit a DNA sample. She could have faced up to 90 days in jail.

Ortiz-Velez said in a statement after the sentencing that she will pay the fine and remains focused on her constituents, not caucus infighting.

“My voting choices caused a rift that has been ugly and bitter,” she said. “My constituents did not send me to Madison to litigate internal caucus disputes or be distracted by the personal feuds — they sent me there to deliver results.”

A spokesperson from Assembly Democratic Minority Leader Greta Neubauer did not immediately respond to an email seeking comment.

According to the criminal complaint, the feud began in August as Democratic members of the state Assembly were planning resolutions honoring Hispanic heritage and Hispanic veterans in observance of Hispanic Heritage Month in September.

Ortiz-Velez grew angry because she believed an unnamed lawmaker drafting the heritage resolution had intentionally excluded her from working on it.

The complaint states that she had been invited to work on the resolution in June and chose not to participate but still wanted to help draft the language. She contacted media outlets saying she had been intentionally left out of the resolution work. She also told the resolution’s author that she felt excluded from working on another resolution that same legislator was crafting honoring Hispanic veterans, saying her late husband was a Hispanic veteran.

Two more unnamed lawmakers told investigators that Ortiz-Velez told them in separate phone conversations that she was going to spread “negative personal information” about the resolutions’ author to the media and that “they are going to do what I want them to do, or I’m going to x, y and z,” according to the complaint.

When one of the lawmakers asked her what that meant, she made comments about the resolutions’ author’s personal life and other legislators. The complaint characterized those remarks as “indecent and tended to disrupt the good public order” but does not elaborate or offer any more specificity.

Democratic leaders issued a statement in September saying Ortiz-Velez had made a comment about shooting three caucus members. That statement came a day after another statement announcing that Ortiz-Velez was leaving the Democratic caucus.

In interviews with the news website Wisconsin Right Now and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Ortiz-Velez denied that she threatened her colleagues. But the Legislature’s human resources office barred her from entering the state Capitol for a day. A spokesperson for Assembly Republican Speaker Robin Vos said at the time that she shouldn’t have been banned.

Ortiz-Velez’s attorney, Michael Cernin, said in a telephone interview Friday that Assembly Democrats were already upset with Ortiz-Velez going into September because she had voted for the 2025-27 state budget and for new legislative maps Democratic Gov. Tony Evers drew up in 2024. Democrats opposed the spending plan in part because they felt it doesn’t adequately fund public schools and argued the state Supreme Court should have drawn the new legislative maps.

Rep. Priscilla Prado, another Milwaukee Democrat, wouldn’t allow Ortiz-Velez to participate in the Hispanic resolutions, he said. Two of the lawmakers who went unnamed in the complaint made allegations to investigators that Ortiz-Velez had threatened to expose unsavory elements of Prado’s personal life to the media, he said.

“It’s incredibly petty, and Sylvia didn’t want any part of this,” Cernin said. “Sylvia truly wanted to spare Prado any sort of embarrassment on this.”

No one immediately responded to messages left with Prado’s Capitol’s office seeking comment on Friday afternoon.

In the back of a church in an anonymous stretch of 7 Mile in Detroit dotted with industrial lots and fast food stores, performers dressed as giant robots battle it out in front of a live audience behind bullet-proof glass.

“We have these nine foot tall metal gladiators that shoot exploding projectiles at 20 rounds a second,” says Art Cartwright, the impresario who founded both the church, Global Empowerment Ministries, and the organization behind the robot show, The Interactive Combat League.

The show, running every few months, is called Robowar. Cartwright’s two enterprises have little to do with each other, he says, save for sharing space and introducing members of his community to potential employment in robotics.

“Metropolitian Detroit right now leads the nation in robotics,” Cartwright says. “We have more robots than any other place in America.”

But the gleaming, glowing-eyed stars of the Interactive Combat League are nothing like industrial robots that help assemble automobiles. They are played by humans wearing what might be considered mech suits. Robots fighting each other as entertainment is a cultural fantasy that goes back at least to 1956, when Richard Matheson’s short story “Steel” was published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. It was adapted into a 1963 episode on the TV show The Twilight Zone, and helped inspire the 2011 movie, Real Steel.

“I’m a Marvel fan,” Cartwright says. “So I’m like, okay, let’s make some robots that look like superheroes.”

Robowar has been selling out shows in its 572 seat auditorium since it launched last summer, and has attracted admiring national coverage. Tickets start at around $50. Cartwright says he eventually plans to stage online interactive robot fights where remote viewers control the action by buying virtual tokens. He says he’s created AI personas for robots representing 30 different cities, from Boston to Los Angeles.

“They talk cash money trash,” he chuckles.

A Detroit-themed quadruped is part of the action at the Robowar show.

Timothy Chen Allen

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Timothy Chen Allen

Robowar also features real robots — robot dogs and child-sized humanoids that dance and pose for pictures. Cartwright bought the smaller robots from a Chinese company, Unitree, known for making accessible robots, with some models available at places like Walmart and costing fewer than $20,000. At one point during the show, there’s a robot competing in a dance-off against a human audience member, executing impressive spins and flips. But the audience, including a 10 year old Kaden Denard, mostly seems to root against the machine.

“They are clankers!” Denard exclaims, using an emerging slur against robots and AI. “I want to be mean to the robots! They are clankers!”

“You better be nice to them before they finish you,” his mother, Nawal Denard, jokes. Though the two depart into a cold Michigan night, along with hundreds of other spectators, the room they left was full of human warmth.

Edited for radio and web by Meghan Sullivan