by Reed Sprague
Alex discovered that he had a knack for debate. He engaged quite often in discussions and disagreements with other UF students. He was basically quiet and shy about his personal experiences, though, so few on campus knew of his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Fewer still knew of his heroism there. Alex liked it that way. His debates were lively, driven by energy and experience his opponents could not see. His opponents often wondered about his level of intelligence and his life’s experiences. He seemed so confident in the U.S. and in its policies and actions. He never wavered.
Alex graduated from UF with his bachelor’s degree in June 2006, then earned his master’s degree over the next two years. He had majored in law enforcement, and his grades were second to none. Alejandro and Felicia were proud of their son’s achievements. Alex had only begun. He had plans that went well beyond his college studies.
It was the summer of 2008, and not the best time in history to leave college and enter the job market. By early June, rumblings had begun about the coming economic problems developing in the U.S. economy. For a short while, Alex pitied himself—just a small amount, but enough to feel disgusted about his own whining.
He had overcome so much — impossible odds, really — Dean Rodgers, the narcissistic and abusive farm labor boss, unheard of work and sacrifice on the part of his parents, his own hard labor as a young boy, his life as a soldier in war, endless hours of study, a bachelor’s and master’s degree. But now, instead of looking to the future and counting his blessings, he found himself temporarily in a slump. After two short days in mild depression, Alex was ready to move on. He would prepare himself to serve as an agent of the FBI, the agency he considered to be the epitome of patriotic service to the country he loved.
The FBI Academy was located on the United States Marine Corps base at Quantico, Virginia. Alex applied to the academy and was accepted. His credentials and life’s experiences were so impressive that he began with a credibility normally imputed to sons and daughters of influential politicians, FBI agents, and others who have no special standing themselves but who are related to one or more who do. He began at the FBI academy in January 2009, and was selected to serve in the FBI’s honors internship program.
Though there was trouble brewing at the FBI, his life at the academy was good. Alex excelled and impressed his instructors regularly. He made quick work of a field of study that often leaves behind even the most intelligent and dedicated student. Upon his graduation in December 2010, he was assigned to the Jacksonville, Florida, FBI office to work mostly on port terror prevention, but also on drug cases.
Alex’s work at the FBI was not professionally satisfying for him. The FBI was not the place to be. It had lost its luster. It was known for overstepping its authority on a regular basis, including aggressive, even illegal investigations under the pretense of the Patriot Act. Among the very public problems at the bureau were stories of illegal wire tapping, leaks of confidential records, and, of course the legacy brought to it — deserving or not — by being lumped together with the completely bungled intelligence that precipitated the mess in Iraq.
Alex trudged through three years of FBI service in Jacksonville. Though his record there was impeccable, he was not happy. He loved America, he was not cynical of her, but he had grown skeptical of her leaders, especially the leaders at the FBI. The FBI was a mess, and Alex wanted out. As was the case each time Alex moved on in his life, he wanted to make sure he did so for the right reasons, in the right way and without any bitterness toward anyone.
Politics interested him. His mother had prophesied about his future, but were those the dreams of a mom who adored her son, or were they Devine revelations, sent to a mother who could will them into existence? Alex had no political experience. He had no standing in a major political party. Few outside of UF or the Jacksonville FBI office knew him.
There was a possibility, though. Gainesville and Jacksonville were in Florida’s third congressional district, and the seat was soon to be vacant. It was now early January 2014. The election would be held on 11 November 2014, less than a year away, with the primary scheduled for 12 August, only seven months down the road.
“Mama and Papa, I want to run for congress. The congressional seat will be open. The congressman from the district is retiring, and I believe that I can win the election. What do you think of my idea?”
His parents were stunned. Alejandro spoke first, “I have learned to believe in you. It’s not that I believe that my son is perfect, like many parents believe about their children; it’s not that at all. But I believe in you, Nino. You can do it.”
Felicia was crying at hearing the news, not because she was necessarily happy or sad, but because that’s what she did when she heard news. She cried. It was her job. “My Nino, listen to me. You will be a fine congressman. I know you will. You will win the election, and you will make a difference. I will warn you, though, that if you become like many of those other corrupt politicians I’ll come up to Washington, find you, and turn you in the right direction. You must change Washington, but you must not allow Washington to change you. Please do it. I want you to do it. I know you will do it.”
Alex sent his résumé to the Democratic Party leaders in north–central Florida. The Party bigwigs in Tallahassee were initially impressed to the point that they got together in Jacksonville with the democratic leaders from congressional district three to compare their notes and to meet with Alex.
As candidates go, Alejandro is, overall, an attractive one. A war hero—yet he would not promote war. An FBI agent; now that might be a problem. A skilled debater; that’s good. Worked his way to where he is the old–fashioned way. Great. That’s a real plus. Good looking, great presence. Real pluses there, too. He’s single—slightly negative. No experience. Not good. Strong family support, which is a huge plus.
Not good if he goes against Jennings. Not at all sure how he’d do against Jennings, either. Might even split the democrats, allowing the republican to walk right in. No good.
Might be eaten alive in a debate, even though he’s a good debater. Jennings will have mega bucks; Perez, nothing. Not good at all. He and Jennings might not hit it off. No good. Jennings has to have support.
Young, but he would appeal to older Floridians. Very good. UF connections. Great. Should do well in Jacksonville voting. He’s Hispanic, so he may not do well in rural areas. Relates to people well. That’s indispensable. Can’t buy it.
No skeletons. A huge, monstrous plus. Highly intelligent. Good, good, very good. And personable. Rare combination. Good public speaker, though not great. Slight disadvantage, especially against Jennings. Energetic. Contagious. Optimistic. In this day and age, a huge plus. Seems to always take the high road. First–class. Naive, though. Needs to learn.
“We want to support you, we really do, Mr. Perez,” Don Litten, chairman of both the state of Florida Democratic Party and the North Florida Democratic Action Committee, said, “but we have to go over tons of details first.”
Litten and his committee members were not there to show their support for Perez. They were there to convince him that he should throw his support to Thomas W. Jennings, their anointed choice to fill the seat. They and Jennings had too much invested in Jennings’ candidacy to make a change at this point. They would patronize Perez, then move in for the kill, to convince him to abandon his plan and throw his support entirely to Jennings. They considered it worth their time to come over from Tallahassee to convince Perez that he should support Jennings.
“We need that seat in order to maintain our standing in Washington. Time is limited, though. The clock is not working in our favor. We’re talking about mounting a major campaign from scratch in a very short time. Competition is tough. The republicans are still stinging from the whipping they took a few years ago. They are coming after this seat with all they have—money, endless advertisements, mud slinging; you name it, they’ll use it. We also have a problem in our own camp. And I’m more concerned about that than I am about th
e republicans,” Litten said.
“The candidate we have, Thomas W. Jennings, is a very prominent democrat from Jacksonville with huge funding behind him,” Litten went on to explain. “He’s also a UF grad. And, here’s the real challenge for you if you run against him: He’s an attorney who has represented big port interests for decades. He’s sure to get the big port money. He has fought hard and long for their interests. Why do you think the ports of America still are not burdened with the huge increased costs needed to provide the level of security necessary to protect us from the arrival of a bomb or two into our ports?
“You and other Americans might see that as irresponsible, but to Jennings, and to us, it means that he’s done a good job saving hundreds of millions of dollars in increased security costs for the Jacksonville port, and billions for ports nationwide, so we are owed that seat by them. The ports owe us, plain and simple. When organizations with that much money owe you, you’re in good shape.
“Anyway, we have evaluated your proposal from all angles. You are absolutely invaluable. We are awed by your credentials and your life’s experiences. Here’s what we propose in response.
“We would like for you to campaign for Jennings. You — a war hero, FBI agent, hard worker, bright, moral and ethical — would be a great asset to the campaign. I’m sure that, in return for your support, Mr. Jennings will be able to secure you a major position as a security expert with a port or transportation company. Should you end up with a port company, for example, you could continue to make the case that port security is fine as is, and needs no further strengthening. You would win all the way around. The port companies would embrace you. You would be helping your fellow democrats, and Jennings would never forget such support. As he works his way up in Washington, he would find secure and lucrative employment for you.”
“No,” Perez said, flatly, “and that is final. This meeting is over.”
The meeting was over, but the exchange continued as the group walked to the door.
“Without money from those giant shipping companies that go in and out of the Jacksonville port, you don’t stand a chance. You will probably do well in Gainesville, with the professors and employees at UF, but Jacksonville is a big hurdle to overcome.
“And you’ll have the problem of the rural areas.”
“Why is that a problem?” Perez asked innocently.
“Frankly, it’s because you’re Hispanic, and they’re not.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The people of the district who live in the rural areas.”
“I plan to represent all of the district.”
“That’s naive. I am concerned about your naivete, Mr. Perez. You have to be realistic. For example, you may not be able to retain your position at the FBI if you decide to do anything foolish. Washington is a funny place. Once you’re exposed as a potential asset, you must then go ahead and be an asset. If not, you are automatically considered to be a liability, and you are treated as one. Think about it before you make any foolish decisions.”
“If by realistic you mean that I should be held back by all of your concerns, I can’t and won’t bring myself to be realistic. And why are you labeling the people of Florida? The people of Florida are diverse, good, patriotic and tolerant. I don’t know the intolerant people you speak of in Florida’s rural areas. And I am not concerned about my job at the FBI. I can find another job. In fact, I planned to resign anyway in order to campaign.”
“Just trying to be realistic, Mr. Perez. I’m just trying to speak realistically to you about all this. We’ll call you in the morning.”
“Don’t call me. There’s no need.”
Litten and the other democratic leaders shook hands with Perez as they left the room.
Between the three, Alex and his parents, they had a net worth of fourteen thousand dollars, eight thousand of which was equity in their two small apartments. Equity borrowing was a thing of the past, so they had access to a whopping six thousand dollars. Alex’s car was in decent shape, and he owned a computer and a laser printer, though he didn’t know how to use either as a campaign tool.
On 6 January 2014, Alex walked into the Jacksonville FBI office and submitted his resignation to his supervisor, Matthew Thompson. Thompson initially refused to accept it.
“Then you’ll have to fire me,” was Alex’s response. “I am launching a campaign for congress, and I have to resign to do it. You don’t want your agents running for political office, and I have to have all the time I can to work on my campaign. My decision is made. For those two reasons alone, I am resigning. There is no excuse for you to refuse my resignation.”
“Alex, you are making a big mistake,” Thompson said. “Normally I don’t give advice to agents. Your decisions are your business, and I have no interest in advising agents on career moves, but I have to make an exception this time. I have no words of encouragement or support for you. I would not be in your corner if I told you what you want to hear. You and I know full well that Jennings has a lock on this election. You don’t stand a chance. I’m asking you to give it a rest for two years, then, if you still fell strongly about it, go for it.”
“Sorry, but I’ve talked it over with my family, and the decision’s been made.”
After a few seconds of silence, Thompson reached over and retrieved Alex’s resignation letter, made some notes on it, and placed it in his personnel file. “It’s been great working with you. You may leave at the end of the month, twenty–five days from now.”
“I need to be on the campaign trail on the twentieth. I’ll work fifteen hours each day, making Friday the seventeenth my last day, so technically I will meet the required three–week notice.”
“You’re amazing. Okay, okay. I’ll agree to that. Good luck, Alex.”
Alejandro and Felicia had not talked over all of their concerns with their son. Realistic and smart, they soon realized that the family would have to have an income that would last at least a year. Alejandro and Felicia did what they had done so many times before. They went to a farm and got a job in the fields. Alex would have to be on the road throughout the third congressional district all day, everyday, in order to have even the remotest chance at winning in August and then again in November. There was no other way he could defeat Jennings. Jennings’ money machine had already begun to crank out television ads, at huge cost to his supporters, and his disciples had begun to take care of myriad details.
Alex was credulous. He began with no advisor, little money, and idealism that works for children but seldom for candidates running for political office in the United States. He got in his car and drove to the small communities in Putnam County. There he would quickly run into trouble.
His first day, 20 January, was a disaster. Alex realized that as a member of the U.S. Congress representing the third district of Florida, he would represent farmers. Farmers were pro–farmer, which meant that they were anti–farm worker rights, though not for the reasons one might presume. Not at all good for Alex. One farmer after another greeted by Alex made it clear to him that they opposed increased rights for farm workers. It wasn’t that they were opposed to rights for farm workers, they said again and again to him. It’s that they were independent and hard–working people who had been forced by the federal and state governments to complete form after form, read, understand and adhere to law after law, and regulation after regulation, to the point that neither the farmer nor the farm worker was any better off.
Day two had to be better, he believed, but it wasn’t. Doors were slammed in his face. Dogs attacked him. He was even chased by loose chickens. He was discouraged, humiliated, lost and wandering aimlessly. He had no idea what he was doing. He couldn’t tell his story to his future constituents because cynicism was rampant. The people, quite simply, were sick of listening to politicians. His only hope was that many he talked to at least complimented him on his method of campaigning—going door to door to meet the people rather than going from TV studio to TV studio to meet
talking heads.
Day three began the same, stayed the same, ended the same. Day four was more of the same. Day five was predictable.
By seven o’clock at night on day six, Alex was ready to give up completely. He had made a huge mistake, he feared, and it was time to pack it in. Jennings’ campaign had already taken off, in fact it was soaring, and Perez had nothing at all to show for his efforts, with no hope in sight. His parents told him about their new jobs — he could have definitely gone without knowing about that — and his once reliable car was no longer so reliable. It needed two thousand dollars worth of repairs. He chugged up US 17, headed back to his apartment in Alachua County, when he noticed a man in his yard, on the outskirts of Barberville, working in his garden. He stopped to say hello and introduce himself as the man’s next congressman.
“Good evening, sir,” Alex said.
“What in the hell is so good about it?” the man, an obvious southern cracker from the old days, replied.
“Well, for starters we live in a great country, and things are going to improve.”
“That’s not what I mean, son. I have no doubt that we’ll pull out of these economic messes. Not so sure about the political disasters, though.”
“Oh. Well. Then what’s on your mind? I’m your next congressman, maybe I can help.”
The man roared out a fake, sarcastic laugh. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a long time, son.”
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alejandro Perez, Jr. I’m a democrat running for the congressional seat in this district.”
“The democratic candidate’s name is Jennings,” the man replied. “Do you have an identity problem? Don’t you know who you are?”
“No, sir; I don’t have an identity problem. Remember that the primary election has not been held. It’s in August. I plan to win the democratic primary election and then again in November.”