by David Pepper
After completing the email, I rifled through some scrap pieces of paper scattered across my desk. I found the one I was looking for, typed an email address into the recipient box of the email, and pushed send.
Having started in London, and come home to Youngstown via Bedford, Pennsylvania, the longest work day of my life ended.
* * *
I turned in my story at 9:30 a.m. Thursday, knowing that the editors would want all day to review it.
Few politicians campaigned harder in last November’s election than Congressman Thomas Stanton, and few benefitted more from the surprising results. The new House majority leader is now among the three most powerful people in Washington and appears on every pundit’s short list of viable Presidential contenders.
In his fall campaign push, Stanton campaigned heavily in almost every one of the districts in which the Abacus company altered the results in last November’s elections. A Vindicator investigation has found that this wasn’t a mere coincidence—Stanton, as House minority whip, knew more than a year in advance virtually every district where Abacus had located its game-changing machines. And that’s exactly where he campaigned.
Many pieces of evidence demonstrate that Stanton worked in lock step with the Abacus plot.
Famed DC lobbyist Oliver Ariens stumbled onto the plan about nineteen months before the election. He recorded his thoughts in a lengthy, dictated memo describing the basic elements of the plot. According to a source close to Stanton, Ariens also sent the congressman a note that Abacus was plotting to steal the election. Ariens died very shortly after doing so, never sending his long memo to its intended recipients.
A researcher within Stanton’s office also drafted the congressman a detailed memo of the plot, including listing the thirty-one swing districts where Abacus had established its footprint at the time. She died shortly thereafter. Stanton campaigned in precisely those districts the next fall.
And photographs obtained by the Vindicator show that Stanton himself reviewed the operation of Abacus, in-person, eighteen months before the election. From examining the vote-counting machines close-up to looking at the shipping operation as the company distributed them nationwide, it appears that Stanton was directly involved in overseeing the Abacus operation.
The story next quoted both Marshall and Williams.
In our interview, the Speaker made it clear that he had had enough of Stanton. The old man clearly wanted a new majority leader, one not always nipping at his heels. This was his chance. His quotes thrust a knife into Stanton’s gut.
“I am deeply concerned by the facts that tie Congressman Stanton to the Abacus plot,” Marshall said. “We will immediately investigate all aspects of this matter to get to the bottom of it.”
Williams also took Stanton to the woodshed.
“All Americans should be appalled—as I am—that the majority leader of the House of Representatives took part in a scheme to undermine the will of the American people. If these facts bear out, Congressman Stanton must be brought to justice. And a remedy for last year’s stolen election should be immediately put in place. It also commands us to finally fix a deeply broken system of gerrymandering that allowed such a plot to take place.”
The story ended with Kelly’s actions.
The ties between Stanton and Abacus continued even after the election.
Congressman Lee Kelly lost his re-election bid last November, and his district was one where Abacus machines eliminated thousands of Democratic votes. Having conducted his own investigation, Kelly discovered the Abacus plot. To get a first-hand look, he traveled to Abacus’ Philadelphia headquarters and arrived there the very day that those who had pulled off the election heist were abandoning the facility. Kelly called to alert the Vindicator of his concern, and called Congressman Stanton shortly thereafter.
After his car was spotted outside Stanton’s Philadelphia townhouse later that afternoon, Kelly died in a fiery car crash later that evening.
Despite photos of Kelly’s Ford Escape parked in front of his townhome, and phone records showing calls to both Stanton’s office and cell phone that day, Stanton denied any communication with his former colleague the day that he died.
Normally I relax when I turn in a draft. But this time, I paced back and forth in the newsroom, hoping to receive a reply to the prior night’s email. I never did.
* * *
At about 2:00 p.m., Dennis Davis and Mary Andres called me into Davis’ office.
I walked in, my heart racing. This was a bombshell, and bombshells scare the hell out of both publishers and their lawyers. Which means delay. Delay now would kill my story because Stanton would preempt it with his own “investigation.”
Their first words would tell me everything.
“Jack, I think you’ve done it,” bellowed Davis, rapping me on the back like a little league coach celebrating his star player’s home run. “We’ve been on the phone with our lawyers over the past hour, and with a few word changes, they think we’re on solid ground. We want to review the story with you one more time, and then we can put it to bed.”
“Well done, Jack,” Andres said. “This is truly outstanding work. Best story we’ve ever run. Historic.”
With our Cleveland-based lawyers patched in over a conference line, we spent the next two hours walking through the copy one paragraph at a time. I explained my sourcing, my source for each factual assertion, and they approved each claim. It was painstaking work, but I happily did it, knowing we had the ball at the five-yard line and were poised to score.
At 4:30 p.m., we wrapped up.
“We’re good to go,” Andres said. “This will post right at midnight on our website.”
“And tomorrow’s paper?”
“The entire front page. You’ll also like what our graphics and layout people have done. On the front page, and online, we’re going to include several photos of Stanton visiting Abacus. The one in the lobby and the one where he’s looking at an Abacus machine are perfect.”
“Great!”
“We’re also going to include the photo of Kelly’s car outside of Stanton’s. And we’re going to have several separate boxes quoting verbatim Ariens’ dictation and Simpson’s memo.”
“Wow,” I replied. This would be a public prosecution, with the most damning evidence presented on the front page of the paper.
“I have one more thing I need to tell you, confidentially.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s shut the door.”
For the next twenty minutes, I walked through my email from the night before. My plan.
“It’s risky, but I think it makes sense,” Andres said when I finished. “Let me know what you hear.”
When I returned to my desk, I checked one last time to see if there was a reply.
Nothing. Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all.
* * *
At 5:00 p.m., I walked back to my car, exhausted from the day, and the week.
I hadn’t been tailed since returning from London, so I didn’t worry when I first saw a Suburban idling near the parking lot. But then the car followed me. Bizarre. The Suburban appeared slightly darker than the other one, but displayed the same license plate.
So I didn’t return home. Definitely not safe. If Kazarov instructed his goon squad to start tailing me again, they might be playing for keeps.
I did all I could to ditch the car. Ran through a few yellow lights right as they turned red. Maneuvered to get cars between me and my tail. Several sudden, unsignaled turns. But every move failed.
I started to sweat. Here I was on the verge of my big breakthrough, and now someone was trying to stop me.
So I dialed the person best able to help.
“Chief Santini?”
“Yep. How’s it going, Sharpe?”
“I’m being followed again,
and they may be going for the jugular this time.”
“Jesus. I’m starting to think you’re the boy crying wolf, Jack.”
I still had never explained the Breezewood disappearance. But wasn’t about to now.
“I know, Chief. I’m sorry. But this time may be for real. Can you come have someone pull this guy over so I can get away?”
“Sure.”
“I’d have them prepared for anything. These guys are dangerous. I’m at South and Lake Front, heading north. I’ll go pretty slowly so your guys can head us off.”
“Gotcha.”
Ten minutes later, two Youngstown squad cars, sirens blazing, drove up behind the Suburban. It pulled over. Problem solved.
* * *
“I think you’re going to want to come in here.”
“What is it, Chief?”
“Trust me. Come to the station right away.”
I had just walked into a favorite local dive, Dooley’s. I needed a television set all to myself, and had found one in the back.
“Okay.”
“Please save me that corner booth if you can,” I said to the bartender as I walked out. “Need to watch something at 8:00.”
Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the chief’s office. A dark-haired, heavyset man sat on the leather couch opposite the chief’s desk. Looked to be in his early sixties. Gray suit. Square jaw. Tough-looking guy. I didn’t recognize him.
“Jack, meet James Dennison.”
“As in Stanton’s Dennison?”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course I know who you are. You’re Congressman Stanton’s henchman.”
“Slow down, Sharpe,” Chief Santini said.
“What do you mean, slow down? This guy’s up to his ears in rotten stuff.”
“Sharpe, cool it! I think you’re going to want to listen to the man.”
I stopped talking.
“Mr. Shaaahhp . . .”
Pure Boston.
“The congressman sent me here to kidnap you.”
Seconds of silence followed this stunning admission.
“He did?”
“Yes, he is worried sick about what you’re going to write about him. But don’t worry, I’m a former cop; I wasn’t going to kidnap you.”
“What was he going to have you do after kidnapping me?”
“I don’t think he knew. But he needed you to disappear for a while.”
“So my story doesn’t come out? And his does?”
“Exactly.”
“And you got cold feet?”
“My feet never factored into it. I do security. I drive. I don’t kidnap. As soon as he told me to do it, I figured I’d drive here and tell you myself.”
“Glad to hear it. Why didn’t you just call, instead of scaring the hell out of me?”
“You never know who’s got who bugged in my business.”
“Good point.”
“I’ve actually got a lot I could tell you about Stanton.”
At any other moment, I would’ve grabbed my reporter’s notebook and feverishly taken notes. But I needed to get back to the bar by 8:00, and it was already twenty til.
“I need to get to something that’s pretty urgent,” I said. “Why don’t I have the paper put you up at a nearby hotel, and we’ll meet first thing in the morning?”
“That works for me.”
Santini chimed in, looking at Dennison. “Why don’t we two old cops go grab a drink ourselves?”
“Sounds good.”
I stood up and headed toward the door.
“I’ll see you at 8:00 tomorrow morning, at the Dunkin’ Donuts in Boardman.”
“Cop joke?”
“Actually, he’s there almost every morning,” Santini explained.
I rushed out of police headquarters and raced back to Dooley’s. Walked in at 8:00 on the nose.
Right on time for the Bridget Turner show.
* * *
Young and Stanton sat in the green room, going over their game plan one last time.
The chief of staff pumped up his boss.
“Remember, you are outraged to have found that someone would try to overturn the will of the American people.”
Stanton responded in kind, with even more faux outrage.
“Absolutely. This is above party politics. This is about the essence of our democracy.”
“And even if it means calling out your old friend Ariens, and undermining the very caucus you now lead, your duty as a congressman is to put your country over even your friendships, even your own party.”
“So we’re calling for an immediate investigation into Abacus and Ariens, and all of Ariens’ clients?”
“Yes. Leaving no stone unturned wherever the path leads. You do this right, and you’ll get universal praise for standing up when everyone else in the party, including Marshall, ducked.”
“I’m ready to go. This is a brilliant plan, Don. Turning the tables on ’em.”
“Just need to pull it off. But I know you will. You’re a big game performer.”
Someone knocked on the door of the room. And a moment later, a young woman stepped into the doorway.
“Congressman, you can follow me to the studio. The interview starts in five minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am. Happy to follow you anytime!”
She ignored the comment and walked out of the room. Stanton trailed the thin, dark-haired production assistant, walking down two hallways to the live studio.
He sat down behind a V-shaped desk, as the young woman clipped a mic onto his solid red tie, a few inches below his collar.
“Look into that camera when your name is introduced, but other than that, just talk to her as if you’re having a regular conversation. She’ll sit down there as the show starts.”
“Sounds good.” He’d been through this drill many times. “Thank you.”
He reached out to pat her lower back as he spoke, but seeing the hand coming, she jumped away just in time. “Good luck,” she said.
A deep male voice came over the studio’s speakers “Ten, nine, eight . . .”
Following the opening music, the familiar voice of Bridget Turner bellowed through the studio.
“Last month, a bombshell story about a stolen election and rigged voting machines rocked our nation’s capital and the country. But then it descended into controversy. Was it true? Was it some kind of left-wing myth? It’s died down as people have tried to answer these questions, but today, we are joined by Congressman Tom Stanton. Our new majority leader—and who knows, maybe the next President—says that not only is the story true, but he knows who was behind this attack on our democracy. And he wants to get to the bottom of it.”
As Turner’s voice spoke to pre-recorded video, Stanton enjoyed watching a monitor displaying images of him in action. Turner then appeared from behind a wall, slipped into the cozy studio and sat behind the other “wing” of the V-shaped desk. As the recording continued, she gave him a spirited thumbs-up along with a big smile.
“That’s right,” broke in a live Turner, looking into the monitor that had a bright green light illuminated below it. “We have the second most important man in the House here to explain what happened. Majority Leader Tom Stanton.”
Stanton looked into his camera and displayed a huge, all-teeth grin.
“Welcome back to our show, Tom!”
“Thanks, Bridget. Good to be back!” He looked over to his host, feeling confident. They’d worked together on many stories.
Turner’s face slipped from serene to serious in a nanosecond.
“Tom, these are disturbing allegations. Tell us what you think happened here.”
“Unfortunately, I think people got incredibly greedy. They prioritized power and money over respect fo
r the will of the American people. And since the first story ran, too many in Washington, including in my own party, have turned the other way. I decided to put party aside, and get to the bottom of it.”
“Who do you think was involved?”
“Well, we don’t know of all of them, but we think we’ve found out who the ringleader is. His name is Oliver Ariens, and sadly, he was a friend of mine and many others. He was probably the most powerful lobbyist in Washington, representing the biggest special interests. But it looks like he was the man behind the scenes who orchestrated this plan, for one or several of his major clients.”
“How do you know this?”
“He sent me a note gloating about it before he died of a heart attack.”
“He did?”
“Yes. And then the exact plan he alerted me to happened. He didn’t live to see it, but whoever he was working with clearly pulled it off. Which is why I am calling for a full investigation of his firm and his firm’s clients. Whoever he was working with executed the plan he had told me about.”
* * *
“Damn.”
I cursed at the screen, frustrated as hell.
Exactly what Kazarov predicted. The show was off to a terrible start.
I’d never heard back from the email I’d sent Turner, so I had no idea if anyone had even read it.
And now what I feared would happen was taking place. Stanton was pulling it off masterfully—beating me to the punch.
* * *
Turner followed up. And Stanton was feeling great.
“And what did you do after you heard about this from him?”
“I didn’t believe it. Sounded nuts. I looked into it a little, but especially after he died, I was more concerned with grieving my best friend’s passing. But after the Vindicator story came out weeks ago, it was clear that his group had pulled off what he had told me.”
“So you never did anything with the information?”
“I had my team look into it. But it never went anywhere. Just wish I had done more. Maybe I could have stopped it.”
Turner jumped into a new line of questioning, glossing over his answer.