by Frank Perry
liaison with the state’s delegates in Washington. He worked for the California Department of Substance Abuse and Control. Most of the people he needed to influence were actually the “staffers” that did all the background deal making, while the elected politicians spent their time getting reelected. Most staffers were interns working for slave wages to establish credentials that would launch them into future careers. Hunter wasn’t from an Ivy League background and didn’t have a politically connected family. But he was experienced as an operator in the field, which gave him creditability with most of them.
He reached the top of the hill in less than two minutes, near the Senate Building Complex then turned eastward on Constitution Avenue toward the restaurant district two blocks away. Three minutes later, he found Brian standing on the sidewalk in front of the cafe waiting for him.
“Brian, I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Not a problem, Hunt. I just got here, anyway.”
The bistro had outdoor seating like most along the avenue, but it was too hot to sit outside. They took seating inside at one of the large tables surrounded by familiar chatter about various legislative matters.
After they both ordered water, Hunter said, “Well, how have you been?”
Brian answered, “Busy as hell. The new ranking member is a real tear. She wants to pull ten percent out of the fiscal spending bill and doesn’t want to listen to anyone. You know eighty percent of the appropriations go to entitlements that are set in law and can’t change. We really only get to work with a small part of the budget.”
“I don’t know, Brian. It seems like you’re always faced with too many ‘wants’ and not enough money. All the news is about deficits these days.”
“Yeah, every member wants to show the folks back home that they protected pet projects, but then they campaign about cuts in Government spending. Fascinating, don’t you think?”
They ordered lunch, and Hunter didn’t answer the question. Brian went on. “I saw Leigh Bryant yesterday.” Leigh was a lobbyist consulting for California that helped Hunter get situated and oriented on Capitol Hill when he took the position with the state’s drug enforcement agency.
“Gosh, I haven’t seen Leigh for a few weeks. I usually bump into her once or twice a week somewhere on the Hill.”
“She’s not around as much now with the baby. I think her client load is down to one or two, just to keep active. Mostly, she’s a stay-at-home mom.”
Hunter chuckled. “Yeah, the guy she married from the (UK) Embassy got a nice job in town with some big defense company, and she really doesn’t need to work anymore.”
“Well, maybe someday we’ll both be so lucky.”
Hunter didn’t plan to stay in Washington long. He missed the west coast. His sister didn’t really give him any option when she recruited him out of the Border Patrol to Lobby for the state. She and her husband, José, had worked together as lawyers to ease drug restrictions and hopefully end the violence on the California border. José led the effort for the state and was travelling to Washington almost every week to press for changes in policy. He disappeared two years ago and was presumed to be the victim of foul play. Hunter’s sister, Claire, was the next logical target when she took over for José. She also had two small children to raise. Hunter took on the lobbying assignment partially to relieve Claire, but also to make her role less dangerous. Hunter had seen the Drug War first hand as a Border Patrol Agent, and prior to that as a Navy SEAL in secret missions into South America. The U.S. policy toward drug barriers at the border was not only impractical to enforce, but it created an entire murderous class of drug smugglers. He was glad to take on the Washington assignment to bring change to an impossible situation that was killing hundreds of thousands and costing Americans billions each year. It was exciting and enlightening to actually be involved with the processes in Washington.
Lunch arrived and water refilled when Brian asked, “Well, for the price of a meal, you have my dedicated attention, Hunt. What can I help with?”
“Ah, you know, Brian. I’m just checking to see if our language is still holding in the spending bill.”
Brian smiled at him. “Hunt, I’m doing everything I can to keep it tucked away. Some of the new conservative members have questioned it, but so far it’s still there.”
“Do you need anything more from me?”
“Nope. You’ve given me more background stuff than I need. It makes complete sense, but you know politicians. They’re only thinking about getting reelected, so the correct things often get deleted.”
“So, what are the chances that it’ll stay in the bill?”
“I don’t know. Say, fifty-fifty. I haven’t actually asked Ian yet (Ian Firth was Director of the Professional Staff), but I want to get him to agree to support it. He’s got more clout with the member staffs.”
“Do I need to meet with Ian?”
“I’ll let you know. Right now, I’d like to keep it below the radar and see if it slides.”
Hunter chuckled, “You know this won’t quietly pass into law without major media attention.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’d rather fight that battle after someone has signed off. Otherwise, it’ll die silently in committee and never get seen by the public.”
“I guess it’s happened before.”
Brian shook his head up and down, “Every year since long before I came here.”
“Yeah, but now we have a financial crisis, and the border wars are escalating. Someone needs to show some balls and solve it once and for all. I don’t think the stars of reform have ever aligned so well before.”
Brian chuckled, “Yeah balls! This is Capitol Hill. It’s full of eunuchs.”
“So, for now, I’ll continue working with the California delegates.”
“I think it’s all you should do right now, Hunt. I’ll let you know if the language gets challenged, then you can figure out how to change some minds. With the growing cast of conservatives on both sides, they don’t want to go against party mantra, and the Drug War is a Republican centerpiece.”
“Brian, after thirty years of barricading our borders against drugs, all we’ve done is kill hundreds of thousands of people, spend trillions, and bring violence to every city in the country. It’s had no effect on drug use in America.”
Brian looked at him askance, “Hunt, why do you think I’m having lunch with you? We’re on the same side on this. The reality is, though, that the “Religious-Right” and “Dudley-Do-Rights” are able to stir up the masses that vote them into office on the basis of some antiquated Puritan notion that we can somehow stop drug use by building fences no matter how many people die.”
“Brian, you know they’re addressing the wrong problem. It’s just like prohibition. We need to control demand on our side of the border and enforce rules against bad behavior. If Americans want illegal drugs, there will be criminals supplying them. The real solution is legalization with corresponding penalties for anti-social behavior and better education programs. Hell, most of our kid’s parents took drugs. Lots still take drugs. We need to turn a horrible situation in the Drug War that’s failed for thirty years into a money-making commercial and regulatory system that pays for curbing demand. That would end the drug war, end the violence, and turn a major drain on our economy into a cash generator, just like it did when the Capone era ended. Hell, Prohibition brought organized crime and corruption to our major cities that we’re still living with – look at Chicago.”
“Okay, Hunt. You’ve earned your pay today for your client.”
“Sorry, Brian, it sort of goes with the job.”
“Look, Hunt. You don’t need to apologize. You fought on the front lines of this war, been wounded and seen friends die. You understand this at a grassroots level – something our elected officials would never do. It’s all political, so get used to it. I hear it all the time from the Border Patrol and DEA guys. They know we can’t win a war that’s uns
upported by the population. The demand for drugs is stronger than ever. But, this is how Washington works. It’s not about doing the right thing, it’s about winning. Mostly it’s about getting reelected.”
“Thanks Brian. I get the impression that a lot of people here understand how to solve it, but no one’ll risk the political backlash.”
“Yeah, so maybe our language will stick this time. Welcome to Washington, Hunt.”
Laurie
Her meeting ended around two o’clock in the afternoon and she needed to get back to more productive work that would last into the evening. She felt, along with all the other Contract Administrators, that none of them needed to hear, again, how the next few months would be hectic as the federal fiscal year came to an end. Most of the procurement dollars each year went on contracts awarded in the late summer as the fiscal year ended. Buyers were always at the end of the whip as government agencies panicked about losing their funds if they weren’t spent. She’d only been through the cycle twice before, but knew what to expect without being lectured. She would lose most of her evenings and some weekends to the job over the next eight weeks.
Returning to her desk, the red message light on her desk phone was blinking. There were several messages that she erased quickly. Then she sat back and smiled, listening to the whole dialogue. When it ended, she dialed his number.
He