Eddy's Current (11 page)

“Other than that one temp job, what is your work history? I see no meaningful employment at all on your record. College, college, college, but not work, work, work. You may have the remainder of my time to add to your three minutes for your rebuttal. I believe I have two minutes remaining.”

Perez didn’t expect such a blatant attempt to discredit him. This was rough and tumble Florida politics, and Perez came to fully understand that reality in a hurry. He heard Dominici’s quiet yet clear voice telling him to be calm and to remain in charge of the debate by moving forward. Leave Jennings in the mud, where he decided to put himself. Just because he places himself there, Dominici had said during the debate preparation, does not mean that Alex should join him.

“My work life began when, at age ten, I worked in the fields of America’s farms and in her chicken coops. I worked mostly in Idaho, but also in other states, including Florida and Georgia, to earn money to pay my college costs. I had plans then to graduate from college. At the age of seventeen, after having graduated from high school and after having worked on and off seven years in the fields and chicken coops, I completed one year of college—undergraduate work at UF. I then entered the Army and was deployed to fight in Afghanistan. Upon returning from the war, a fourteen–month tour of duty, I enrolled at UF and went on to earn my bachelor’s and master’s degrees. I did not work while I was in college. I wanted to focus on my studies.

“After earning my master’s degree, I enrolled in the FBI academy, served for six months in the intern program there, graduated, then worked for three years as an FBI agent. I voluntarily resigned from the FBI in order to run for this office because I didn’t feel that it would have been fair to the FBI for me to take time away from my responsibilities there to campaign for public office. And because the FBI frowns on its agents doing that.”

Perez was on his way to a media enthronement. He had quietly and effectively refuted Jennings’ attack. Jennings was now on the defensive. He appeared agitated and bitter. Worse, he came across as an attack dog. His follow–up only made things worse.

“Mr. FBI Agent, I am very much confused. Do you mean to tell me that you voluntarily resigned from a most–coveted position as an FBI agent, one of the most sought–after positions in all of law enforcement? All because you’re a crusader for the people? Come on, Mr. Perez, the voters of this district are not that naive.”

“Here, Mr. Jennings; here’s a copy of my resignation letter to the FBI. And here’s a copy of the FBI’s letter to me accepting my resignation. And, finally, just to make sure I demonstrate to you that my employment at the FBI was okay as well, here are copies of four commendations I earned and copies of the two superlative annual evaluations I received from my superiors. As you will see from the documentation, Mr. Jennings, there were no problems between the FBI and me. My resignation was submitted by me without pressure from my supervisors.”

The debate continued much the same: Jennings making one outrageous accusation after another, and Perez quietly and effectively refuting each with clear evidence and constructive proposals for the future rather than sludge–like responses to the mudslinging. A new hero had been created—a quiet, effective, positive leader had emerged; the media’s new Dominus. Perez had supplanted Jennings. The new race was on. Jennings was now chasing Perez.

The local newspapers, and even the national media, were elated at the news of their new anointed one. News accounts now consisted of coverage of the rich, detached lawyer verses the quiet and confident war hero competing with each other for Florida’s third congressional district seat. Polls taken the day before the election showed a statistical tie, although officially Jennings was a point or two ahead. That was perfect, Dominici thought. He and Perez could play the underdog role to the very end. Perez would campaign throughout the district, north to south, on the day before the election. The day of the election he would reverse and go up from north Orlando, west to Gainesville, then over to Jacksonville Beach. Perez was relentless.

By eleven o’clock the night of the election, it was clear that Perez had won. Dominici did it. Against all odds he brought his candidate to victory. The vote totals were close, but Perez captured a clear fifty–two percent of the votes to Jennings’ forty–seven and one–half. It was a stunning victory, and one that set the standard high for Perez. His victory was clear, and so was his mandate. He was to represent the people. The same media that swung things in his favor would be watching him closely to see if he delivered. He would need to be careful. Even Hancock would like nothing more than to expose the new messiah as an apostate.

The general election in November produced no serious challengers to Perez, so he won easily against a few fringe candidates who somehow managed to get their names on the ballot. The former child field laborer from Idaho was on his way to a freshman seat in the congress of the United States of America.

Dominici was sick on a regular basis now. Kathy stayed with him all day, everyday, beginning late in the evening of 25 November. It had only been two weeks since the November election. Christmas was approaching, and Kathy was determined to spend this year’s Christmas Day with the father she had wanted to forget about just a few short months ago. He also wanted to spend Christmas Day with her.

Kathy and Alex had become inseparable as well. Alex had fallen deeply in love with his new hero’s daughter, and she was deeply in love with Alex. Together they cared for Dominici.

At three fifteen, Christmas Eve morning, Dom awakened to severe bleeding from his mouth. Kathy called the ambulance and had him transported to the nursing home. She and Alex held vigil over him in his small room. They were joined by a stainless steel utility table, a small, cheap artificial Christmas tree, a bed, one guest chair and a light overhead that was turned off. It wasn’t needed. God was there as well. Kathy was convinced of it.

At four eighteen in the afternoon, Christmas Day, Dom gagged and coughed and gagged and coughed, then finally succumbed, ending the physical torment that brought about his death. Kathy and Alex had read and heard about the peace of death. This was not peace. This was disturbing. It was sad. It was now Christmas Day, and Christmas Day wasn’t supposed to be this way. Still, Kathy and Dom’s wish came true: They spent Christmas Day together.

Dom’s passing was sad and his memorial service was depressing. His pastor from years earlier, his casket, the two grave diggers, Kathy, Alex, Alejandro Sr. and Felicia were there. That’s it. Dom’s pastor said a few words of remembrance, Kathy read a poem she wrote over the years of her childhood, adding lines to it from age eight to sixteen, then skipping fifteen years, then adding a few lines in recent months, and several more over the last few days. It was a poem no one had ever read or heard until the memorial service.

My Daddy is very important to me, you see

My Daddy is big and strong and he loves me and he cares for me.

He can do anything, he’s very important to me; one day you’ll see.

My Daddy protects me with his big muscles and he provides for me.

He can do anything, he’s very important to me; one day you’ll see.

My Daddy would rather be with me, though today he’s not, tomorrow he will be.

He can do anything, he’s very important to me; one day you’ll see.

Tomorrow’s now today and my Daddy’s not here; but tomorrow he will be.

He’ll wrap his arms around me and we’ll hug tightly; one day you’ll see.

Today my Daddy misses me and I hope he’s not alone like me.

Tomorrow we’ll be together and forever we will be, you’ll see.

I miss my Daddy today and I know he misses me.

I’ll cuddle with my blanket tonight, I’ll be protected, secure I’ll be; you’ll see.

My Daddy loves me this I know and today I clearly see.

I wish I could be with him, though; he’s very important to me, you see.

My Daddy helps good people in the government; and he’s also very good to me.

I miss him and I miss him; tomorrow we’ll go to the park; you’ll see.

My Daddy’s not at the park today; tomorrow he will be.

I’ll see him then, and we’ll play and play; this you’ll also see.

I finally saw my Daddy today; he’s as wonderful as can be.

We hugged and hugged and hugged just as I said we would, you see.

I know now more than ever that my Daddy loves and cares for me.

It had been years, so you gave up, but I did not, you see.

My Daddy never stopped loving me, across time and space and anger, you see.

He can do anything, he’s very important to me; and now you can plainly see.

Of Daddy I’m proud because he reconciled with me.

No blanket tonight, no loneliness, no dreams, just time and Daddy and me.

Farewell Daddy, sleep forever tight and secure and free.

I can now do anything, because, like you, I can now and forever see.

Felicia cried, because she always cried when experiencing situations like this. The others cried as well, though. Kathy gently laid her blanket, neatly folded, on top of the casket, her only copy of her poem on top of that, and then a single rose. The casket was lowered into the ground, and the diggers immediately began to shovel the dirt over it. The preacher said a final prayer. The service ended.

Kathy and Alex went home and reflected. From that day on they were inseparable. Dom, known to Alex for less than a year, had done more to bring about Alex’s success than UF, the FBI and the military combined. Alex’s parents were grateful for all Dom had done for their son. They embraced Kathy and came to love her almost as much as Alex loved her. Felicia and Alejandro were naturally appreciative, but both were eternally grateful for Dom’s work with Alex and for his faith in the American political system.

A once discredited American hero and tireless public servant — an old Florida cracker — went on, into eternity, his life over on this earth, a hero once again. Before he left he made certain that he produced a protégée who could help bring about an entirely new beginning for America.

Monday, 5 January 2015. Alex and Kathy were married at a small wedding chapel in Jacksonville. Alejandro and Felicia were in attendance. Felicia cried, but not for the usual reasons. She cried because her son was supposed to have been married in a large Roman Catholic church, a cathedral perhaps, by a bishop who was known for presiding at weddings for American big shots. Felicia learned to accept, though, and her tears soon began to flow for a better reason: She was happy.

Things were looking up. But Alex and Kathy would soon realize how much they both missed Dom. They arrived in Washington, D.C., to a reality that neither of them was prepared for. Dom was not around to instruct Alex on the rules of the Washington political game. He and Kathy would have to learn the hard way. That painful process was about to begin.

8 JANUARY 2015

“Welcome, Congressman Perez. Welcome to Washington,” the inviting man with the broad, permanent smile said to Alex, all the while completely ignoring Kathy as she and Alex entered the auditorium. Cameras flashed as official pictures were taken, hundreds of them, of the hobnobbing of Washington insiders with their newly elected government officials.

“This is sort of your initiation, your orientation. Come on over here. I want you to meet some friends of mine,” the man continued, yet to introduce himself. Finally, and almost as an aside, the man said, “I’m Sam Gregory. I’m your host. There are many others here like me who want to bring you on board as quickly as possible. Who’s the Mrs.? What’s your name?” he said to Kathy with all the respect, courtesy and grace reserved for greeting one’s pet lizard.

“This is my wife, Kathy. And you are—?”

“I’ve already told you my name. I’m Sam Gregory.”

“No, I know your name, but who are you?”

“Did you receive the notice for this event?” Gregory asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you already know how things work here in D.C., don’t you? Weren’t you able to gather from the invitation that we do a good job of bringing you on board here? Within two hours tonight I’ll get you in the know with more people who can help you than you would be able to get to know in ten years in this town. Just relax, agree, and smile a lot. Remember that cameras are flashing and important people are watching.

“Katie, you need to stand up straight and present yourself as a good dutiful wife. None of that independent woman stuff here tonight. Place your left arm under his right arm. That’s right. Hang onto him but allow him to lead. Everywhere you go in this room, he’s to be slightly ahead of you. Now come on, we’ve got to make our rounds. Keep a good profile. Make sure you fit in. Let’s go.”

“My wife’s name is Kathy.”

Alex and Kathy were swept along throughout the auditorium, from one banquet table to the next, meeting various people about whom they knew little, and for whom they were on display without knowing exactly why.

“Your campaign was brilliant,” a stranger who introduced himself as Timothy Danielson, said to Alex. “I’ve never seen any candidate promote that sincere crap the way you did. You should have been a used car salesman,” Danielson said, as he laughed hysterically at his dumb joke. “Dom was your campaign manager, wasn’t he? He still had what it took. Right to the very end. That poor bitter bastard never should have left politics for twenty years. Think of all of the elected officials who could have been. Nobody — and I mean nobody — shoveled that sincere manure the way Dom did. And nobody ever will. He was an artist. Now the S.O.B.’s dead. Died before we could get others like you elected. What a waste.”