by Jan Brewer
What is the saying—When God closes a door, he opens a window? Well, my window turned out to be something called the Council of Governors. President Obama himself had appointed me to the group to coordinate on issues of homeland defense among the states and the federal government. It seemed the perfect venue for bringing attention to the illegal immigration crisis in Arizona. And, as luck would have it, the council was having its first meeting in Washington on June 2, 2010.
As I prepared to go to Washington, I again reached out to the White House for a meeting. But a White House spokesperson said the president’s schedule wouldn’t “allow for a meeting” with me and my team, although in true Washington, D.C., fashion, he did leave the door open to “sit down with the governor in the future.” That same week, I noticed, the president’s schedule included a fund-raising event in Pittsburgh, a reception for Major League Soccer, and a concert at the White House to honor Paul McCartney. I know he’s the cute Beatle and all, I thought, but we’re in serious trouble here! (That was the same concert, by the way, in which McCartney said that George W. Bush didn’t know “what a library is.” The audience applauded, and Obama grinned.)
Before I left Phoenix, I sat down for an interview with a young reporter from the Arizona Republic. As we talked about SB 1070 and all of the unending attacks, especially the “Nazi” name calling, I spoke about how much they hurt in light of my father’s service during World War II and his subsequent death. This is what the Arizona Republic reported: “ ‘The Nazi comments . . . they are awful,’ she said, her voice dropping. ‘Knowing that my father died fighting the Nazi regime in Germany, that I lost him when I was 11 because of that . . . and then to have them call me Hitler’s daughter. It hurts. It’s ugliness beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.’ ”
It was the statement that my father had died “fighting the Nazi regime” that set off the firestorm. It sounded as if I was saying that my father had died in Germany, not after having served as a civilian here at home. That wasn’t my intention, and I believe the reporter simply misunderstood what I had said. But a single statement can make a world of difference when the media is looking for an excuse to pounce. This was their excuse.
This reporter was new to the job and had never heard my life story. She had an excuse. Others who took advantage of the statement . . . not so much. Arizona Democratic Party spokeswoman Jennifer Johnson smelled blood and attacked. “It seems obvious that Jan Brewer stretched the truth to make herself a more sympathetic figure.” The liberal media began sliming me as a liar. Vanity Fair snarked, “The saga is very sad, except its tragedy is somewhat mitigated by the fact that it is extremely untrue.” Newsweek lumped me in with Connecticut Senate candidate Richard Blumenthal, who lied outright about his military service, and Illinois Senate candidate Mark Kirk, who served in Iraq but said during his campaign that he had been fired upon while doing so.
As I listened to the media trying to sully my father’s memory, I struggled to keep my anger at bay. My dad wasn’t a superhero; he didn’t have a Medal of Honor. But he was my hero. I lived on a military base; I saw soldiers being deployed, and some of them never came back. The last thing I would ever do is try to cheapen their memory. Finally, I released a statement trying to put the matter to rest. “Even in the end, when my dad struggled for breath, he never regretted serving his country, helping free Europe from Hitler’s grip,” I wrote. “I have proudly recounted his story in many places for many years. My father’s patriotism and sacrifice need no embellishment.”
That night, I flew to D.C. When I hit the ground, I found out that President Obama had agreed to meet with me.
The people of Arizona were finally going to get their fifteen minutes with the leader of the free world.
According to the White House, an unexpected opening had occurred in the president’s schedule. If you ask me, the president had bowed under pressure. But whatever the reason, I was excited by the opportunity to explain the impact that illegal immigration was having on Arizona and the rest of America. That night on CNN, John King asked what my number-one request would be of the president. You won’t be shocked at my answer.
“Mr. President, we need our borders secured.”
The next day, I tried for the most part to keep out of the public eye. I attended the Council of Governors meeting, where the topics of discussion were kept largely secret. That night, though, I appeared again on Greta Van Susteren’s Fox show to preview the meeting with President Obama. Greta asked a question that struck a chord with me: Was this just a photo op? “How do you tomorrow make sure that you’re not being used?” Greta asked.
It was a good question. I told her I just had to trust that the president was sincere about wanting to hear from me. In any case, it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. “I think it’s important to not only the state of Arizona but to all of America that we are able to tell him exactly what is taking place down there in Arizona and that we need to have our borders secured,” I said. Greta said that she thought Obama had been cornered. I told her, honestly, that I would take the meeting any way I could get it.
“You don’t seem very afraid,” Greta noted. “Are you going to be in awe when you walk into that Oval Office, or are you going to be just as tough tomorrow with the president?”
I explained that I had been in the White House when Ronald Reagan was president and during the presidencies of both Bushes. Then I used a saying that is familiar to everyone who knows me. “It’s not my first rodeo with the president of the United States.”
That night at our hotel, we got the list of people who would be at the meeting. White House senior adviser Valerie Jarrett would be there. So would the president’s chief of staff, Pete Rouse, and the director of the National Counterterrorism Center, John Brennan. I also noticed another name on the list: White House counsel Bob Bauer. I was puzzled, because I had been told that there wouldn’t be any discussion of the lawsuit they were hinting at filing against us. I had good, trusted aides with me: my deputy director of communications, Kim Sabow, and my deputy chief of staff for operations, Brian McNeil. But still, if they were going to have their lawyer, I was going to have my lawyer. So I had my general counsel, Joe Kanefield, get on a red-eye from Phoenix.
At the hotel that night, everyone was trying to prep me, to grill me, to get me ready. It filled the air with tension. At a certain point I said, “You know what? I’m through. I’m going to bed.” I knew what I was going to say, and my staff was getting me—and themselves—all wound up. There’s nothing like leaving things in the hands of God and getting a good night’s rest.
Joe arrived the next morning, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. Still, his lawyerly instincts were sharp. Despite what we had heard, Joe anticipated that they would bring up the lawsuit. He planned to tell them that there had already been multiple lawsuits filed against the state by civil rights groups and others, and it made little sense for the U.S. government to weigh in. We also weren’t sure that the White House staff understood my executive order and the language in the bill that was meant to ensure that it wasn’t a license to profile. We planned to encourage them to let the law go into effect and see that the protections we had built into it would work. If they didn’t, they could challenge the law as applied. “President Obama is a lawyer and former constitutional law professor, right?” I said. “So he’s got to get it.”
As we drove up to the White House, I groaned at what I saw. Our old friends in the Service Employees International Union had set up a protest outside. They were chanting, “Governor Jan Brewer, shame on you!” And, of course, “Yes, we can!” These were President Obama’s biggest supporters. The head of the SEIU, Andy Stern, had visited the White House more than any other person during the first six months of the president’s term. The union’s opposition to SB 1070 was no secret—their fingerprints were all over the Astroturf protests and boycotts. Still, I was astounded that they had followed me all the way to Washington. W
hat were they so afraid of? Their stance against SB 1070 didn’t make any sense—after all, the people most hurt by illegal immigration are union workers, whose job prospects are undercut by businesses that hire illegals in order to avoid paying minimum wage. But the SEIU and its allies are liberals, first and foremost, and their chief goal is the legalization of millions of potential Democratic voters and union members.
When we got to the White House, we were sent into a holding room outside the Oval Office. One of my staffers took pictures. That was apparently a no-no. The Secret Service confiscated all of our cell phones and cameras. Too bad we weren’t illegal aliens, or we could have sued them. As we waited, we chatted with a Marine guard who, it turned out, was from Arizona. He told us he was very proud to see his governor in the White House. I was flattered and encouraged. It was a good sign, I thought.
An aide came in and told us the president would see us now. We walked around a short curve in the hallway . . . and there was the president, standing outside his office to greet us. Inside, seated in a line in front of his desk, were Jarrett, Brennan, Rouse, and Bauer.
We sat down and started with some chitchat. But after a few minutes the president’s tone got serious—and condescending. He proceeded to lecture me about everything he was doing to promote “comprehensive immigration reform,” which was code for encouraging more illegal immigration by letting those already in the country illegally jump the line. He said they were doing everything they could, but the system was broken. He didn’t mention the violence on the border, the drug cartels, or the enormous costs being borne by the citizens of states like Arizona. He mentioned that the Department of Justice was reviewing SB 1070 and that he was leaving to them the decision whether to sue. “I will not put my finger on the scales of justice with regard to this review,” he said. “I have completely delegated the decision to them.” Joe and I exchanged a glance. We were skeptical, to say the least.
It wasn’t long before I realized I was hearing the president’s stump speech. Only I was supposed to listen without talking. Did he care to hear the view from the actual scene at the border? Did the opinions and observations of the people of Arizona mean anything to him? I didn’t think so. His mind seemed made up. If he knew about the escalating levels of violence, the kidnappings, the drop houses, the home invasions, the spotters, and the drug mules, he didn’t give any indication. It was as though President Obama thought he would lecture me and I would learn at his knee. He was patronizing. He understood that we were “frustrated,” he said—heck, yes, we were frustrated!—but he didn’t seem interested in knowing why. Then it dawned on me: He’s treating me like the cop he had over for a beer after he bad-mouthed the Cambridge police, I thought. He thinks he can humor me and then get rid of me.
I listened to about ten minutes of this. Finally the president’s lecture ended and it was my turn. I hadn’t interrupted the president because I respect the office, and I was determined to show respect. But now I was ready to give him a piece of my mind.
“I have written five letters to your administration, and I haven’t received one reply,” I told him. He seemed genuinely shocked about that, and said he didn’t know. He assured me it wouldn’t happen again. I found out later that within minutes of our meeting, the government affairs office at the White House had called my office requesting copies of our letters. Better late than never!
I pointed out that the law he had called “misguided” was a mirror of the federal law against illegal immigration. I told him that the people of Arizona supported what we were trying to do, as did a majority of the American people. I didn’t want to talk about “comprehensive immigration reform” while our border was out of control, I said. After we had secured the border, then we could discuss what comes next. If he saw it differently, we would just have to disagree.
Before we left, I asked the president to come to Arizona and see the border for himself. I still believed that he would view the issue differently if he could just see it with his own eyes. “It’s very different from what you see on TV or read in the paper,” I said. President Obama wouldn’t commit to a visit, but he did promise to get back to me with some further ideas. Considering that I had never received a response from his administration before, I considered that progress.
Despite the president’s lecturing tone and lack of commitment, I left the meeting feeling elated. If nothing else, the people of Arizona had finally been heard. I was eager to speak to the press gathered outside. “Governor, there’s a lot of press out there,” Kim Sabow said to me as we left the White House. “What do you mean by ‘a lot’?” I asked. “I mean a lot,” she said. “They need more time to make room for everyone.”
When I finally stepped outside, there was more media gathered than I had ever addressed before. I knew that what I said would be important, not just for Arizona but for the whole country, in determining how we dealt with this issue going forward.
“We agreed to try to work together in order to find some solutions,” I said. “We know that we’re not going to agree on certain issues until other issues are worked out. And so we’re going to begin some more direct dialogue in a couple of weeks.”
I decided to swallow my misgivings and give the president the benefit of the doubt. “I am encouraged that there is going to be much better dialogue between the federal government and the state of Arizona,” I repeated. “I hope that’s not wishful thinking. I hope that’s positive thinking.” I was asked whether I thought Obama had read the law. I smiled and took the next question.
We went back to Arizona allowing ourselves to feel victorious. We had forced the president of the United States to hear the voices of people who were being victimized by illegal immigration. We eagerly awaited his ideas for securing the border.
It may be politics as usual that governors of the opposing party don’t get treated the same way as those from the governing party. Maybe in Washington it’s just normal to say one thing and do another. But that’s not the way we do business in Arizona. And so we waited, patiently, for the response from the Obama White House that we had been promised.
Two weeks later, we got our response—but it wasn’t exactly what we had expected. It came in the form of signs posted by federal bureaucrats on Arizona lands a full eighty miles in from the border. Here’s what the signs said:
DANGER—PUBLIC WARNING
TRAVEL NOT RECOMMENDED
• Active Drug and Human Smuggling Area
• Visitors May Encounter Armed Criminals and Smuggling Vehicles Traveling at High Rates of Speed
• Stay Away from Trash, Clothing, Backpacks, and Abandoned Vehicles
• If You See Suspicious Activity, DO NOT
CONFRONT! Move Away and Call 911
• BLM Encourages Visitors to Use Public Lands North of Interstate 8
• For More Information, call 623-580-5500
The president had promised fresh ideas. What we’d gotten instead were warnings to the American people from their own government telling them not to venture onto their own land. We wanted help in defending our border, and instead we got the white flag of surrender.
Against the advice of my security detail, I traveled to an area where one of these signs had been posted, about eighty miles from the border, just off I-8. While there, I spoke directly to the president in a video posted on YouTube.
“What is our country coming to?” I asked. “We will not surrender any part of Arizona. We need to stand up and demand action. Washington is broken, Mr. President. Do your job. Secure our borders. Arizona and the nation are waiting.”
Chapter Five
Sued for Enforcing the Law
I learned on television from Ecuador that I was being sued by the federal government.
That’s right—television from Ecuador. On June 8, just a few days after my meeting with President Obama, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was in Ecuador being interviewed. The
first question, right out of the box, was about SB 1070. Here’s how she responded: “President Obama has spoken out against the law because he thinks that the federal government should be determining immigration policy. And the Justice Department, under his direction, will be bringing a lawsuit against the act.”
It was unbelievable. I had just been told by President Obama that the decision whether or not to sue us was under review at the DOJ and he would not attempt to influence the outcome. Yet now Secretary Clinton was boasting that it had been the president’s own decision. And not only wouldn’t the president tell me to my face, the White House didn’t even have the decency to let me know before I heard it on national television. (Later, the choice of Ecuador to announce the lawsuit made more sense. When the administration had reported SB 1070 to the United Nations Human Rights Council, Ecuador was the first country that charged racial profiling; and when the Ecuadorans set up a consulate in Arizona, they made clear that they were doing so to aid illegal aliens—to help their citizens break our law.)
The Obama administration was behaving as if its duty to another country was greater than its duty to the residents of Arizona. “This is no way to treat the people of Arizona,” I said after I heard about the lawsuit. “To learn of this lawsuit through an Ecuadoran interview with the secretary of state is just outrageous. If our own government intends to sue our state to prevent illegal immigration enforcement, the least it can do is inform us before it informs the citizens of another nation.”
I was outraged by the administration’s high-handed treatment, but I wasn’t actually surprised about the lawsuit. They’d been hinting about it for months. Six lawsuits by groups including the ACLU had already been filed against SB 1070. These suits covered just about every conceivable legal angle, but we were pretty sure the administration would add theirs to the list. They had been . . . to put it nicely . . . misrepresenting SB 1070 for months. They had all but called us racists for passing it. Why wouldn’t they sue to prevent its being implemented?