Police Chief P.J. Gibson, along with FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Stephen Dransfelt conducted a press conference after the arrests were made.
“Based upon statements from multiple eyewitnesses, we understand that Booker admitted to shooting Assemblywoman Holcombe and was involved in planning the shooting at Del Madre High School last month,” Gibson said.
Dransfelt said Booker also is believed to have laid out plans to attack the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels Catholic Church in downtown Los Angeles.
“While we remain saddened by the death of Assemblywoman Holcombe, we are grateful to have prevented a major terror attack.”
Assemblyman Jim Mitchell, who replaced Holcombe after she was killed and who is running to fill her seat permanently, was glad to hear Booker was captured.
“I’m grateful for the local and federal law enforcement agents who worked tirelessly to find this man and take him into custody,” he said. “I know I’ll sleep better tonight.”
Larry Holcombe, the late assemblywoman’s husband, did not return calls for comment.
Tammi Cunningham covers Emerald Valley for the Southern California Courier. Follow her on Twitter @TammiSCCourier.
Sunday afternoons typically were reserved for a late take-out lunch and watching some shows saved on their DVR, but the specter of last night’s drama clung to Terry and Rachel like a rain-soaked shirt. Lunchtime conversation often focused on something funny the pastor said in his sermon or what they had planned for the week. Today, however, little unnecessary chatter broke the rhythm of emptying their plates of enchiladas, beans and rice. Also, the ban on phones at the dinner table had been lifted without discussion, as both were thankful for the distraction.
Finishing the Courier story, Rachel broke the silence. “So, do you think this whole thing is over with? I mean, are there other people in this militia that might come after you?”
Terry shook his head. “Agent Dransfelt assured me they will be working overtime to round up other members of the group and put an end to the threat once and for all. Unfortunately, I’m not the one who needs to be worried.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, while they’re doing all they can to keep my name from getting out, Jim Mitchell, on the other hand, still has a target on his back. Dransfelt told me not to worry though, because they’ve increased his security detail accordingly.
Rachel sighed. “Hopefully that’s enough.”
14
Thursday, November 3
Jim was talking with Brian as he walked through LAX toward the loading zone where his niece was supposed to be picking him up for the ride home. A Los Angeles Airport Police officer shadowed him, as had Capitol Protection Section officers while he conducted business in Sacramento. CPS had recommended alternating between LAX and Ontario, where he normally flew into, because the unpredictability would lessen the likelihood of an attack. When all this started in August, he never thought he would get to the point where he would look forward to campaigning for public office. Then again, it beat the alternative of living in fear, which is something Jim Mitchell had never been willing to do.
“When I get home tonight, we need to meet and finalize our strategy for the final stretch.” He paused. “I know you’re going to kill me, but I need to take some time off Saturday night.”
“Listen, we’re three points down. We need to be canvassing houses in Burdo’s back yard this weekend. He’s not as popular in his hometown as he’s trying to convince people he is.”
“And we will have volunteers going door-to-door begging people to vote for me, but I need to take my wife out a for a nice dinner with some friends before I win this election and my life is officially over for the next two years.”
“Or longer. OK, I don’t like it, but I get it. You do what you need to on Saturday night, but we need you on the campaign trail from Sunday night until the polls close on Tuesday.”
“Yes sir. Oh wait. Aren’t I still technically your boss?”
“Maybe, but if you want to win on Tuesday, I would strongly suggest you take my advice.”
“OK, OK, you’ve made your point. We’ll talk again later.”
He ended the call just as he exited the terminal. Waiting for his ride, he checked his texts and emails. Rather than wait for a reporter to repeat his opponent’s talking points before responding, his campaign consultant Lizzie had tasked a Mitchell supporter to follow Burdo and Dooley on Twitter and Facebook and report if anything interesting popped up.
He had an email from Lizzie with a screenshot of a Tweet, which he opened. It was from Dooley’s account.
Say it Ain’t So, Jim. The “honest” politicians stoop to dirty tricks. #ShameOnMitchell
“Do you know what this is about? I was looking for a picture of a mailer or a YouTube link, but this was it.”
He typed out a response.
I’ve got no clue, but I’ll look into it on the way home.
About five minutes later, Rebecca pulled up in her mom’s new MINI Cooper.
As Jim hopped in the car, he appreciated the interior. “Nice wheels. Did you guys get this while I was away?”
Rebecca checked her mirrors and looked over her shoulder as she pulled away from the curb. “Nah. We’ve had it for a couple of weeks. You haven’t seen it because you’ve been too busy.”
Jim sighed. I’ve heard that a lot recently. “Tell me about it.”
Within minutes, they were on the 105 freeway but, because it was rush hour, they were creeping along at no more than 10 miles per hour.
He received another email from Lizzie.
Here’s what they were talking about. It’s a doozy. I’m finding out if one of our friends put it together.
Jim clicked on the link, which was for a video on YouTube. Overly dramatic music was accompanied by a series of images: the California coast, stacks of money, migrant workers picking fruit, an empty chair and a shot of the backs of lawmakers in the Assembly chambers. The text was vague yet incendiary.
Liberals are dead-set on destroying all that makes California special. They want higher taxes and amnesty for illegal immigrants who are here to steal our jobs. What stands between them and total ruin? One seat. If they win that seat, corrupt lawmakers in Sacramento can do whatever they want with no accountability whatsoever. Remember that when you vote next Tuesday.
Paid for by Californians for Prosperity, a coalition of business leaders and entrepreneurs. Not authorized by a candidate or a candidate’s committee.
The video had 200 views and it had only been posted 10 minutes ago.
Brian called two minutes later. “Have you seen it?”
“Yep. It’s pretty bad. Lizzie told me she’s looking in to whether one of our friends made it.”
“I can tell you right now they didn’t, because I would kill them if they did. While I don’t have the same problems with negative ads that you do, this kind of amateur-hour stuff makes us look like a bully and loses us more votes than it gets us.”
“What do we need to do?”
“We need to get ahead of the story. When the reporters call, I will send them to you. Vehemently deny that it’s us.”
“Which should be easy, because it’s the truth.”
Brian chuckled. “That always helps.”
Jim snapped his fingers. “Brian, I’ve just had an idea. I need to check something out. I’ll call you right back.”
Ending the call, Jim checked the image of the Tweet, which had since been deleted and the information on the YouTube video. Thanks to Rebecca, he had learned the basics of taking a screenshot, which would prove immensely invaluable in this case. “Gotcha.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “What’s so exciting over there? You just beat Dad on that trivia game you two have been playing?”
“No, he’s still ahead for now. Actually, I’ve figured out something that might help us win the race.”
“Really, what is it?”
“Not yet. I don’t want to get our hopes
up. I’ll explain it all later…if I’m right.”
He emailed Lizzie and Brian the news, and as they transitioned from the 105 to the 605 freeway, he took a phone call from Courier reporter Tammi Cunningham.
“Hi, Tammi. I’m guessing you’re not calling to ask how my flight was from Sacramento.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Not quite. Actually, I was wondering if you’d heard about the new ad against Kenny Burdo.”
“Oh yes. I’ve seen the hit piece someone put out there. Nasty bit of work if you ask me.”
“‘Someone’?”
Nice job dangling the bait. “Well, I’m not sure who it was, but it wasn’t us.”
“Linda Dooley’s people have condemned the ad. What do you have to say about it?”
“I agree with them. It’s a mean-spirited hit piece aimed at scaring people, not informing them. It also looks about as professional as something a high school student would put together for a book report in English class. Whoever made it is being a bully, and not a very smart one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the ad obviously makes Kenny, who’s a good guy by the way, seem like the victim here. I know I, for one, am sick of negative ads, which is why we haven’t run them.”
“Even though your opponents have said some pretty mean things about you, particularly your lack of experience, like when an ad by friends of Burdo dressed a kid in an oversized suit and Fedora with a PRESS badge that called you ‘Scoop’?”
He laughed. “‘It’s time to “Scoop” the rookie out of Sacramento and let the grownups do their job.’ That was clever. It was mean, sure, but it wasn’t Kenny. It was just his friends who want to win. That’s politics for you.”
After the interview was over, he called Brian. “I want you to set up a meeting with Linda Dooley tomorrow morning somewhere outside the district but busy enough that we won’t look like we’re two people in the back of a restaurant arranging a mob hit.”
“It’s a bit of an odd request. They’ll want to know why.”
“Tell them enough to get her there, but not enough to tip our hand.”
“That’s a tall order, but I think I can manage it. Who do you want with you?”
“Nobody.”
“Oh, come on, Jim. You don’t go into a meeting like this by yourself. This isn’t the Wild West.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t want us to spend the entire time trying to parse the meaning behind who is in the room and who is not. We need to meet on neutral territory and we need to do it alone.”
“Well, I think you’re crazy, but if you want to, then be my guest. It’s your funeral.”
“I don’t think it is, but I appreciate that you recognize it’s my choice to make.”
_____
Jim arrived 15 minutes early at Crumbs Cafe in Pasadena for his lunch meeting with Linda. Strojny had already arrived and was seated at a table about 20 feet away. To the casual observer, he looked like a businessman enjoying his sandwich and fries, but he constantly scanned the room for potential threats. The noontime crowd was already bustling at this new restaurant that featured “artisanal food at affordable prices.” He checked out its online reviews and was grateful that the food seemed like it would be much more pleasant than the conversation. He waited a few minutes before heading to the front and ordering a turkey avocado sandwich. On a whim, he chose tater tots instead of fries.
Just before noon, Linda arrived, briefly glanced in his direction and ordered before finding his table near the back. A water was waiting at her seat when she arrived.
She sat down and lifted the glass. “Thanks,” she said as she took a sip. “Now, what’s this all about? I don’t have all day. We have an election to win.”
They paused as a server delivered his sandwich. He sampled a tater tot. “Oh, these are good. Want one?”
“Listen here. I didn’t come here for the food. I came to find out what you want to talk about that’s so important that we had to do it alone and out of town. So, shall we get this over with?”
“If you wish, but we might as well enjoy lunch while we’re here.”
“Quit stalling.” Her tone suggested fear as well as frustration.
“Fine. I wanted to meet with you to ask you to drop out of the race.”
She scoffed. “Why would I do that? You’re worried I’ll beat you, aren’t you?”
“Not in the slightest. You’re in third place, a distant third according to last week’s poll numbers. You’re not going to win, but your antics with ads like the one that came out yesterday could make sure both of us lose. And, truth be told, I’d really not prefer to lose because of some silly attack ad.”
The server returned with the spinach salad she had ordered. As he left, she raised her hand to her heart, her eyes quizzical. “What makes you think I had anything to do with the ad? It was put out by a political action committee, not a campaign. Are you sure it wasn’t one of your friends and you’re just trying to cover for them? I hope that’s not the case, because if you lied to the press in your interview yesterday, that won’t sit well with the voters.”
“Nice try, Linda. You know I’d almost believe that little acting bit of yours if I didn’t have proof.”
“Proof. What are you talking about?”
“Well, since you asked, here goes. One of the followers on your Twitter feed happens to be a friend of our campaign. Oh, and before you act too shocked, I know you guys do it, too.” He was glad to see she didn’t try to act indignant again. “At any rate, this person was rather surprised by your initial Tweet claiming your outrage, particularly since the video wasn’t posted to YouTube until several minutes later.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. There is no such Tweet in my feed.”
“Oh, there’s not one anymore, that much is true. You deleted it, but we have a copy of the original. You jumped the gun a little bit, which suggests someone tipped you off about the ad.”
“So what? We didn’t make the ad. It’s not our fault.”
“No, but the fact you knew about the ad shows you were working in collusion with this group. I may have only been in Sacramento since August, but I’ve been covering politics for a long time, and I know that a campaign working in coordination with an independent political action committee is illegal.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” The rise in volume threatened to attract unwanted attention.
“No, I am not. My campaign manager suggested I could leverage you, but I told her no. She doesn’t like me right now, but she trusts me. All I want is for you to bow out gracefully rather than in scandal.”
“That sounds a lot like blackmail, if you ask me.”
“If I was blackmailing you, I would tell you that I could leave here and call my friends at the Courier, Channel 5 News, or CNN for that matter, and drop the dime on you. I could, but that’s not who I am. I want you to leave the race for two reasons.”
“Which are?”
“First, neither one of us are particularly fans of Kenny Burdo, so if we’re fighting it out, he’s more likely to win.”
“And the second reason?”
“I know a little something about sacrificing everything to get what I want. I lost a cousin because I was chasing a story. I’m proud of the work Melissa and I did on that story, but it wasn’t worth the price. I lost Vince, and my reputation was damaged, and it took years to get my good name back.” He leaned over the table of their barely touched meals. “I may not be your friend, but, take it from me, you don’t want the first thing people remember about you to be this.”
She shook her head. “But you’re not even a Republican. How do we know you will protect us against the Democrats and their radical agenda?”
“My chief of staff and I get into these late-night conversations when we’re done giving speeches and knocking on doors. He’s a loyal Republican, but he knows that political parties can be toxic, too. When he gets particularly wound up, he starts quoting James M
adison from Federalist 10. Basically, it says that political parties get so wrapped up in fighting each other that they don’t pay attention to what the people need.” He took a bite of his lunch and she followed suit.
“I’m still not sure I can trust you to vote the way I would, but I think I can trust you as a person.” She took another forkful of salad. “You promise you won’t share what you know?”
“You have my word. And I promise my staff won’t either, not if they ever want to work for me again. If someone else pursues it down the road, it won’t be because we helped them.”
“And you aren’t concerned you’re covering up a crime?”
“Some, but all I’m doing is not reporting an offense committed against me. Kenny Burdo could go after you, but he would have to figure it out. It’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
“I suppose you’d want me to endorse you?”
Jim shook his head. “Not at all. A quid pro quo deal would probably be illegal, but even if it wasn’t, it would sure seem like it was. No, just do the right thing for you, and I’ll run my own race.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice when all I’ve done is try to take you out at the knees?”
He considered the question for a moment before answering. “It’s called forgiveness, and there isn’t enough of it in this world.”
“You’re right, Jim.” She extended her hand. “Thank you.”
The two finished their meals in silence.
_____
Later that afternoon, Jim smiled as he read the Twitter update from the Courier’s feed:
Linda Dooley drops out of Assembly race, declines to endorse Mitchell or Burdo. Details to follow.
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