“You may have heard that my opponent recently went down to the Mexican border. Do you know what he was doing there? He didn’t go visit with the brave men and women of our border patrol. He didn’t even go to the detention centers he criticizes so much. No. He actually went across the border to a migrant camp inside Mexico, and brought Spanish-speaking lawyers with him to coach illegals on how to break our law. As if we didn’t have enough MS 13 members here already. Can you believe it?”
The crowd began chanting, “No paseran! No paseran! No paseran!”
“Friends, I know many of you in this room. Some of you have been so kind as to invite me into your homes and into your churches. Let me ask you a few questions—and let’s make sure the Fake News can hear your answers.”
Oh my God, the Crocodile thought. He’s doing a Trump. And he’s getting away with it. The news media were all in the well down in front. They would have to turn their cameras around to face the crowd if they were to capture the responses Aguilar was eliciting. And you knew they would never do it. That’s why he’d positioned two volunteers with small video cams down in the well. One was to stay focused on the candidate, but the other was to capture the audience reaction, which they were live-casting on Facebook.
“So we ‘know’ from our friends here in the media”—the audience hissed—”that the president is cruel. He is racist. He has unleashed ICE to carry out raids all across the country. They are splitting up families. Tearing mothers away from their children. Taking Grandma away in handcuffs.”
A deadly silence came over the room. Had Aguilar crossed a line? Even with his “own” people that he knew so well? The Crocodile watched the so-called journalists down in the well. They all had pens poised to their notebooks, blood dripping from their lips.
“How many of you here in this room have had ICE come to your house?”
No one raised their hand.
“Don’t be shy. If they really have come, they know who you are.”
People laughed. Two hands went up, but that was it.
“And how many of you saw Mom get deported? None? Well, what about Grandma? Anyone see Grandma get dragged away in handcuffs by ICE?”
The Crocodile knew where he was going. It was a risk, but a well-calculated risk. He was going to face the attackers head on and cut them off at the knees.
“Of course not. But the Fake News won’t report that. Will you, guys? No, you won’t be reporting that. You won’t report that this president is finally deporting the criminals and the gangsters who are tearing our communities apart. They broke our laws coming here and continued to break them ever since. I say good riddance to them!”
The audience cheered, but not a single news camera turned to face them.
“Congressman McKenzie cares more about people coming illegally into our beautiful, wonderful, God-blessed country than he does about you: American citizens. He wants to give them ‘free’ health care. That’s right. He wants to take twenty-five percent out of your paychecks and give it to people who jump the line and break our laws to come here illegally.”
He was right on the edge, the Crocodile thought. The media could play this very badly, but would they dare?
“You know what it’s like in El Salvador, in Honduras, in Guatemala,” Aguilar said. “You know what happens when the police are taking bribes from the gangs and the drug lords. When the politicians drop to their knees, begging for big payoffs from the cartels. My opponent wants America to be like the countries most of us have fled. He wants to erode our rule of law.
“So let me ask you a simple question: Do you want to live in a lawless nation, where drug kingpins and gang lords set the rules?”
The church erupted in a single voice. Their cheering went on for nearly a minute, so Aguilar let the microphone drop to his side and exchanged greetings with people he spotted all over the room.
“We can change the laws,” he went on once the chanting died down. “And if you elect me to Congress, I will. But we cannot—cannot—allow this country to become a lawless nation, like the banana republics we fled. If we lose America, where else can we go? This is the last safe haven on earth for a free people. God blessed this country and will continue to bless this country—if we are smart enough and brave enough to defend it and defend our freedom and the rule of law.”
That was his cue. The Crocodile turned to the stage manager behind him, who punched a few buttons, filling the church with the mariachi band theme song of the campaign. Everyone in the pews came onto their feet and began forming lines, swaying to the music, hands on the hips of the person in front of them.
Aguilar stood on the stage, waving to the raucous cheers for several minutes, then joined the Crocodile backstage.
“Well, boss. You did it. You did well.”
“You think it went down okay? Not too risky?”
“No, you hit it just right,” the Crocodile said. “Because, see, you’ve got something that no other candidate has got, and everyone in that church knows it. You’re one of them. You’re not a phony like McKenzie, born with a silver spoon. You have risen despite the obstacles. And so you give them hope that they can rise, too. You have earned the right to speak the truth to them. You have earned it from them. And that’s why you’re going to win, boss. That’s why you’re going to win.”
12
Congressman Hugh McKenzie pretended indifference as the NBC make-up artist began to powder his face for The Razor’s Edge, but secretly he was grateful for the solid tan she had selected. While he knew Ricky Brewer was going to be asking him about his debate with Aguilar, he wasn’t sure how he would react if he actually played a video. It had been the worst performance of his political career, and he was still kicking himself for getting sucker punched into playing defense. Politics 101: Never make excuses, never explain, but attack, attack, attack. And he flunked.
“How ‘bout your hair, Congressman? Just a spray or two to keep it in place?”
“I leave it to you,” he said affably. “I am in your hands.”
Former CIA Director Pat Counihan was on screen with Brewer, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He ought to get a medal, though. A profile in courage. Standing up to Trump, even as he faced increasing scrutiny and even legal jeopardy for his actions during the final months of the Obama presidency. Warning about Russian interference in our elections. And the Republicans continued to wave it off as if it happened all the time. Maybe it did, actually. People forget the Cold War. That’s what Dad says. The Russians have been all over us for one hundred years. But that would be a Republican talking point.
Jenn and his bodyman, Joachim, were waiting for him in the cramped green room. Counihan was still on screen.
“Turn it up,” he said. “I ought to hear what he’s saying in case I need to respond.”
They were discussing Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, and his refusal to allow legislation to come to the floor that would change election laws across the country. Moscow Mitch, they were calling him. Ouch! Of course, they were Democrat-sponsored bills—one of them his.
Ricky Brewer: Yesterday, FBI director Christopher Wray raised the prospect of foreign actors manipulating voter data but said his bureau was working relentlessly to prevent it.
FBI Director Wray: We have yet to see attacks manipulating or deleting election- and voter-related data, or attacks that actually take election management systems off-line. But we know that our adversaries are relentless. So are we.
Brewer (to Counihan): So what do you think the worst case would be that would possibly screw up our notion of who actually won the election?
Counihan: I think if the Russians or someone else did something to disrupt the electoral systems, going in and maybe taking down some of the registration rolls, preventing individuals from getting to the voting booths, or manipulating some of the tabulations that might be sent from one precinct to hea
dquarters. It really raises questions about the integrity of the election. And my concern is, would Donald Trump at that stage claim that the election was fraudulent because of interference from individuals in some basement somewhere, that they manipulated it?1
He turned to Jenn. “Can they actually do that? Interfere in the reported vote?”
“You mean in the precinct by precinct totals that are sent to the counties, and then to the states? That’s way above my pay grade, Congressman. But it’s an interesting notion, isn’t it?”
“That’s not what the Russians did in 2016.”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never heard anybody claim that the Russians actually penetrated the electoral systems. What they did was bad enough.”
“Sure. But it could have been worse.”
He made a mental note to speak to his IT guy about the mechanics of how the electronic voting machines worked, how they counted the votes, and how those votes were tabulated precinct by precinct. Were there technical tweaks he could offer as legislation that might shield voting machines from being hacked?
The producer ducked her head into the green room. “You’re on, Congressman. Please follow me.”
Counihan was back in the makeup chair, getting his face daubed with wipes, when McKenzie went by. “Good job, Mr. Director. Wish you were still there.”
Counihan’s Irish-red skin was re-emerging from beneath the makeup. “Oh, thank you Congressman,” he said. “And good luck with your race. I hear you’re going to need it!”
Well, good day to you, too, he thought. That was a helluva thing to say to someone as they were about to go on live television. I thought he was supposed to be on our side.
Brewer was drinking coffee and surveying a computer screen embedded beneath the round plastic table of The Razor’s Edge set. He didn’t look up until the producer had seated McKenzie across the table and brought him a clean mug of water.
“Okay,” Brewer said, reaching out to shake his hand. “This is how it’s going to go. I’m going to do a brief recap of what Director Counihan just said, then I’m going to introduce you as a principal co-sponsor of one of the election reform bills. You heard what he said, right?”
“Most of it,” McKenzie said.
“The gist is, without your bill, our electoral systems are still vulnerable to hacking. So you can riff off that all you like for the first two minutes or so.”
“Sure,” McKenzie said. Brewer was scrolling down his computer screen. If you didn’t know how the set looked to television viewers, you would never guess it by sitting here, he thought. Instead of that magnificent view of the Washington monument—Gus Antly’s view, from the Majority Leader’s office in the Capitol Building—all you saw was a blurry cityscape of lights. The deep walnut paneling was real, or sort of, but there wasn’t much of it. It seemed so informal you could almost be lulled into thinking you were at some kind of high school drama rehearsal. Brewer wore sandals and jeans beneath the table.
“After that, I’m going to put you on the razor’s edge.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly.
“I’m not going to mess with you, Congressman. But everyone’s seen the video of that debate of yours now that the president tweeted it out. It’s gotten something like three million views. So I’m going to ask you the same questions. Are you anti-Israel? Are you really suggesting an additional twenty-five percent withholding tax to pay for Medicare-for-All? What do you say to the 85 million people, maybe more, who stand to lose their private health insurance? Do you really think that’s a winning platform for Democrats against this president? You get my drift.”
“I do,” he said.
“Okay. Here we go.”
Brewer sat up straight, growing a good six inches right in front of his eyes, and launched into his famous introduction, speaking so fast it was hard to untangle his words.
The first segment went well. Just as he had promised, Brewer teed it up and let him present his election reform legislation, interrupting only with prompts, so he would keep moving at the rapid pace of the show.
“So is there any chance of Moscow Mitch bringing this bill to the Senate floor before the election?” he said.
“In all honesty, probably not, Ricky,” McKenzie said.
Without transition, Brewer went on. “You and your Republican opponent squared off last week in a debate that sent fur flying. Not your usual style, if I might say so, Congressman.”
“No, it wasn’t. And my opponent is not the usual opponent. He’s used every low trick and—”
“Let’s have a look.”
Before he could finish his sentence, there he was on screen, red-faced, flustered, as a voice heckled him from the audience.
“What about Israel?”
“I’m getting to Israel.”
“Answer the question,” the heckler shouted.
“So, Congressman. What about Israel?” Brewer said. “And what was that all about?”
“Ricky, first of all, let me just say that I’m a bit surprised that you would give airtime to hecklers who in all probability were paid for by my opponent’s campaign. This is a phony issue, dredged up by a bunch of bottom-feeding muckrakers who couldn’t care less about Israel let alone my own beliefs.”
“So what are those beliefs, Congressman? Is it true you signed a letter condemning Israel that was being circulated by the Council on American-Islamic Relations, CAIR? Not exactly a neutral group. They were unindicted co-conspirators in the biggest terror-funding prosecution ever.”
“Before I was elected to Congress, I joined a group of bi-partisan lawmakers in the Maryland state legislature that sent a letter to the UN Secretary General, raising concerns about human rights abuses during the Israeli invasion of Gaza during which it was reported thousands of civilians died.”
“But thousands of civilians didn’t die, Congressman. There was an investigation—”
“—which that letter helped prompt—”
“—found that at least a quarter of the casualties on the Palestinian side were in fact known armed militants, and another half were suspected to have taken part in the fighting. One thousand three hundred and forty-one Palestinian casualties in all.”
“We didn’t know that then. What we knew was the horrible footage we were seeing on television of UN schools being bombed, children in the streets.”
“And it turned out that a lot of those children were in fact being used as human shields. Take a look.”
Brewer rolled tape from Al-Aqsa TV of Hamas leaders calling on children to form a human shield at Hamas positions in Gaza to prevent Israeli air strikes. It then cut away to children standing in front of a sand-bagged checkpoint, flashing the V for Victory sign, while Hamas fighters loaded mortars just meters away.
“I can tell you, Ricky. We didn’t see any of that footage at the time. And I would say now that Israel—”
“This is when the Israelis began a tactic known as ‘roof-knocking,’” Brewer broke in. “Pretty smart, if you think of it. First they launch a warning shot on the roof of a building they know is being used as a firing position by Hamas. Then a couple of minutes later, they take it down. Have a look.”
“The first shot means ‘get out,’” a female narrator with a British accent said indignantly as a small explosion lifted dust off the roof of an apartment block. “And the second one means business. It’s called roof-knocking. It’s supposed to minimize civilian deaths.”
“As I was saying,” McKenzie cut back in, “since then we’ve seen Israel take some pretty extraordinary measures to avoid civilian casualties, even putting their own soldiers in danger.”
“You call yourself a big supporter of Israel.”
“I am, Ricky. And my constituents know that. I have been a strong proponent of funding for the Arrow anti-missile program and for maintaining Israel’s qualitative military
edge. I’ve voted for David’s Sling. I’ve voted for the F-35. I’ve voted for Iron Dome. For my opponent to suggest anything different is just a lie. But I’m not surprised.”
“Yeah, well that seems to be the Republican playbook, doesn’t it. So let’s turn to Medicare-For-All and that twenty-five percent tax.”
“Another lie,” McKenzie said.
“Watch this,” Brewer said, pointing to the screen dramatically. Nelson Aguilar came on screen, and he was exhorting a crowd of young Hispanics.
“Twenty-five percent. That’s the amount Congressman McKenzie wants to grab from your paycheck every week. Every week. Just think of it. Twenty-five percent less in your pocket every week. He calls it Medicare-For-All. But you know the truth: it’s just plain socialism.”
“Is Medicare-For-All socialism, Congressman?”
“Of course not, Ricky. It’s just a new and improved version—much needed, I will admit—of Obamacare. My constituents have been begging me for years not to let the Republicans take away Obamacare, which guarantees their access to affordable health care.”
“And so, under your plan, would 85 million people lose their private health insurance?”
“Look. Under our Medicare-For-All proposal—”
“Would they lose their insurance? True, or not true?”
“That depends.”
“But they might?”
“So, we spend more on health care than any nation on earth. Our mixed public/private system has built-in fraud waste and abuse that is mind-boggling. We as a nation have to move toward a single payer system. And that’s what Medicare-For-All does. It moves us closer to single payer.”
The Election Heist Page 5
