Sunday, February 11, 2018

The Auto-Obituary of Lucius X

In a decades-long career the noted black revolutionary Lucius X worked across the American South but was proudest of his service as correspondent for a small daily newspaper on the Mexican border, an experience that he later described as frustrating only because locals thought he was a narc. “Rio Grande City was a major trans-shipment point, money going one way and drugs the other, I was actually trying to score for myself most of the time I was there,” he reminisced years later of his time on the big river. "I knew the mother lode was in reach but no one would sell to me. That turned out, actually, to be a metaphor for my life.”

Outside the booming drug traffic the beat was so dead that he found time on the weekend to cross the river and catch the train to Mexico City—wandering the Zona Rosa, hanging out on the Reforma near Chapultepec Park and returning to Texas on Monday nights. His employers never knew he was gone. “It was a sweet deal, that job, just boring, especially without herb,” he said of the border. His editors only wanted someone at his post to call the news desk if there was a fire or a flood or some other kind of generalized mayhem that, unfortunately from a young reporter’s point of view, never happened. One night a large coke shipment destined for the U.S. arrived in a tiny community across the river and traffickers paid every man, woman and child $100 to help unload the product—making sure everyone was involved so that no one could go to the federales later. No attention was paid to the story except by the DEA, who Lucius X told to fuck off. “I’m no snitch, I said kiss the Black Man’s ass, you feel me? But that was the only real news the whole time I was there,” he told an interviewer decades later. “It was evil in a literary sense which is hard to find as a reporter or so I thought, I’m talking about abuelita who can barely walk with her cane but she got a kilo packet under her arm and $100 clenched in her fist. Mothers, children, the elderly and infirm, wasn't no village priest but working as a mule he probably wasn't wearing his clerical collar. Dramatic possibilities were endless. I thought I'd never have a chance to write about corruption like that again—but then I moved to Austin!” In the Texas Capitol the budding African-American future revolutionary showed intestinal fortitude and a talent for wrongdoing that he credited with making his career as a reporter successful. Lucius X was threatened with death by the Capitol strongman Bob Bullock—described as “unfair” by Governor Ann Richards—and once burglarized a state office building to get a story. By his own admission he often took a 100% discount in stores or “walked the check at bars and restaurants I felt lacked a social conscience, although I always left a tip because the waitress was a member of the proletariat just like me. Taking goods and services without paying was something I was actually doing before my arrival in Austin but working in the stimulating intellectual environment of the Texas Capitol gave me the foundations of revolutionary theory to understand why it was the right thing to do.”

Lucius X was 61 at the time of his passing. He’s survived by daughter China Bates of Salvador da Bahia and Florianopolis, Santa Catarina, Brazil, his lone offspring the result of a brief hook-up in Porto Alegre during the period of his world travels, after he escaped the unethical influence of the Texas capital and, per his own report, “reformed my soul.” In the era of Porto Alegre and beyond he would become best known for his wide-ranging international work. “I had a keen eye and a hard dick,” he recalled for The Daily Mail, “and I used both.”

Unfortunately the police, he said, always seemed to see him coming.

Lucius X claimed to have been in custody in six countries on four continents and in three American states, “mostly not for my political beliefs,” including being beaten and robbed by Rumanian railroad cops on the Bulgarian border and a digital exam by the Royal Hong Kong Constabulary after he arrived from Bangkok, bound for a gig in the People’s Republic, in '88. "We landed and they took a bunch of us guys aside and next thing I knew we were in a room lined up against a wall and this pig is pulling on a rubber glove—and I'm like, ‘Hold on there, cowboy.’"

Despite the nature of his beliefs and activism he was universally described as “cheerful and easy to work with” by former co-workers, as well as humble and well-mannered, "with an extraordinary ability to always say the right thing, just like Nelson Mandela," according to a former editor. He never cursed or used foul language. “I learned courage,” Lucius X said in his last charla with the press, “from Teddy Pendergrass and Detective Chief Inspector Jane Tennison.” Before his passing he said the only two items left on his bucket list were robbing a bank and doing supermodel Tyra Banks, both goals he considered unachievable in his lifetime. Long ago abandoning any religious beliefs for the creed of Black Rationalism and what he called “other secular pursuits,” he nonetheless was described as "a noble Negro” by L’Observatore Romano which added a final blessing, “requiescat in pace," echoed in his native ‘hood as, “RIP, ‘Big Bro.” Although Lucius X’s origins remain obscured in the smoky and violent atmosphere of the pre-civil rights South the best evidence is that this Negro rebel was actually born in L.A., at Queen of Angels Hospital, in 1956. His family lived in South Central which was then middle-class and respectable, “I went ghetto,” he liked to say, “before the neighborhood did.”

On his mother’s side he was descended from Jamaican stock by way of the docks of Galveston where his great-grandfather worked lifting crates for The Man. His maternal grandmother was a seamstress who passed for white. On his father’s side Lucius X came from a long line of criminals and thugs back to slavery, also in Texas, and it’s of particular note that his father, also named Lucius, was briefly a pimp in San Francisco “until he woke up one night with one of his girls straddling his chest, holding a knife to his throat,” per an oral history of the X family. The elder Lucius abandoned the underworld for law school, a decision that would’ve marked his family’s introduction to the middle class if not for his parents’ divorce.

A peripatetic mother moved him across the country searching for what she called “the Black Slice of the American Pie,” a piece of pastry that remained forever out of reach, young Lucius picked cotton in the Texas Panhandle and worked in a coal mine in Kentucky to help feed his family. He wrote later however that the defining moment of his childhood actually took place back in Los Angeles as a precocious toddler when his mother placed a hard-earned stack of cash on a table and young Lucius, not yet knowing what money was, but seeing that it was important to adults, for no particular reason took the bills and placed them under a rug, as a game, throwing the household into chaos. That early experience remained with him long after the ass-whipping he received for stealing—and served as foundation of “getting ahead in this bitch Amerika. I saw that day you could take something of value from other people and it serves two purposes, increasing your stock and just as importantly decreasing their’s, you feel me? After all, that’s the basis of The Man’s success in this country isn’t it, ripping niggers off?” Genetically-unique from birth Lucius X suffered from tri-testonia 3BB, a rare autosomal-dominant condition in which a Black Man-Child is born with three large testicles and inordinate masculinity. Only one in 14 billion male babies has three big ones. Most often associated with African kings—Hannibal, Ramses II, Shaka Zulu as well as African-Americans Nat Turner, Malcolm X and Marcus Garvey all tested tri-testonia positive. The only non-black men believed to have had the condition were Mao Zedong and Genghis Khan: in the case of the great Mongolian warlord whose body has never been found to be tested. 

“I was born with three big ones and I’ll die with three,” he told doctors as a teenager, his first refusal to be de-masculated “by White Society. If it was good enough for Genghis it’s good enough for me,” and, indeed, he was sometimes called “Khan” by admirers.

Often called "a nigger's nigger" and "the thug's thug"—or "thug of thugs," a reference to the “king of kings” in the Bible, Lucius X was also described as a “thug for all seasons” because of his wide-ranging literary and scientific interests. The major focus of his research other than medical science was the role the White Media play in creating racist views of the liberated Negro male. His extraordinary masculinity and his efforts at outing White Hypocrites were closely related, according to experts. Without the extra virility of a third testicle it is believed that he would never have dared to question the status quo. “Like,” he asked witha rhetorical flourish, “what’s up with that?”  Efforts by the X-Man to bring race to the forefront of international dialogue also translated into his literary endeavors. His one-act play The Pool Man Cometh about African-Americans entering the middle class just celebrated its 1,000th performance in Stockholm, after being shunned in Texas where Lucius X was blacklisted by The Man. “In my hometown for instance, black school children are the most heavily disciplined and expelled, so the wounding starts early and continues until the police give us the coup de grace. That’s why the Black Man is in such a hurry to have relations with women he meets, not to bust the nut—not for pleasure, nor merely to carve another notch in the Black Man's gun, so to speak, but in order to pass on his genetic inheritance before he dies in a hail of gunfire.”

On the scientific front Lucius X’s groundbreaking sociological theory The Once and Future Negro predicted the end of skin color as a social issue within decades, as optimists have hoped, but its replacement by discrimination based upon theft of African-American DNA. Lucius X reported heavily on efforts by the University of California to attract black children in the minority-heavy East Bay for medical studies, in order to acquire genetic profiles to develop drugs for Big Pharma. “The theft of our inheritance is second on my list in importance to the black community. Major medical research institutions are trying to get blacks to give away data because it’s more varied and therefore more valuable for study than white DNA. Big Pharma will then design drugs and sell the medicine back to us at prices we can’t afford. It’s slavery all over again. For the revolutionary Black Man it’s the fundamental civil rights issue of our times.” 

Lucius X was equally-renowned as author of a number of powerful personal essays including “On Shooting a Pig,” and “Letters to a Young Blood” in which he gave advice to the Black Son he never had (“There are two things a Negro can’t allow anybody else to do for him,” he wrote to his unborn child, “his fucking and his fighting.”) In fact his classic essay “Dick Don’t Lie” describes the Black Man’s spiritual relationship with his bone, a piece in which he uttered his famous warning to avoid white chicks because, “White pussy has killed more niggers than gunfire.” “Electric Negro” speaks to the Negro and technology and was published in the United Kingdom as “The Black Man and the Internet,” in which this prominent theorist predicted the Fall of the White Race through the unfiltered pronouncements of the unchained African-American male. Lucius X noted that historically most oppressors create the means of their own destruction—in the case of The Man he believed the Achilles heel to be the World Wide Web. The story “Hills Like Black Elephants” about a young brother being asked to deny paternity of his pregnant girlfriend’s child is included in most serious anthologies of world short fiction. The public is most accustomed to viewing Lucius X as a man of action: a revolutionary figure whose moves on the court, so to speak, spoke louder than any trash he talked before the game. But his literary chops were equally impressive and bridged two eras. He was also principal author of the Black Manifesto, now in its sixth printing, which serves to codify the mystic Way of the Negro into a kind of daily etiquette such as knowing when to draw down on a pig—or how to respond to a white chick “who has mouthed off one time too many.” The Little Black Book, as it has come to be known, also offers a soulful meditation on an often-debated, transcendental question, to whom the Black Man owes his primary loyalty—to his posse, or to his bitch. Lucius X was always intimately attuned to his relationships with women and liked to read women’s magazines, he said, “to know what the enemy is planning. The fundamental conflict is not racial,” he opined, “it’s sexual and I’m not at all sanguine about men’s chances in this confrontation. Women don’t really need us biologically and they know that. My sense is they’re plotting all the time.”

Indeed, his most controversial work was the science fiction trilogy Planet of the Hos, unfinished at the time of his death. POH recounts the struggle of a Black Man who is admiral of a Federation star fleet seeking what are believed to be pirates raiding robot cargo vessels in an outer nebula. The admiral equips a robotic merchant ship with a tracker and follows its theft to the bosom of the Federation itself, to a planet called Ho, run by women, in which men are decorative and used like bee drones, only for mating. The Black Admiral must fight rebellion among the females of his own crew who like what they see, and in the climatic scene the Negro-in-charge faces off in a life or death struggle against the ruler of the planet, the Queen of Hos, in a fight which only ends when he conquers her sexually. In notes found at his passing Lucius X intended to end this work with the admiral “meditating eloquently on the struggle to be a Black Man in Outer Space.” The New Yorker has called it the “ultimate work on race and gender in Deep Space.”

Lucius X also left behind the screenplay Black Man Interrupted, written in dark undertones that speculate on the contributions to society—probably not unlike those of Gandhi, or of Madame Curie for example—that might have been made by a Negro like himself if he weren’t always having to look over his shoulder, especially wary of women who want to de-masculinate him. “Oh well,” he said.

“The medium is the message but more importantly,” Lucius X famously wrote in his internationally influential "Electric Negro," “the writer is the story.”

A founding member of the propaganda arm of the Black Revolutionary Army (BRA), the Black Revolutionary Army Group (BRAG) and Black Army Group (BAG) during the time when BAG was allied with the Pan African Army and before the establishment of the nascent New African Republic, in rural Milam County, Texas, Lucius X transferred to the mobile wing of the Black Resisitance Organization (BRO) and served in the Black Armed Struggle (BAS) before BAS’s eventual infiltration and destruction by informants of the FBI. He famously foreswore armed conflict after entering nursing school on Galveston Island, later in the day. During his time working as a R.N. at Children’s Hospital he was known as “the angel in black” for the color of his scrubs and for his compassion.

Lucius X made a point of being well-traveled in an age when many People of Color did not have the opportunity to go abroad or were afraid to leave the Great Satan, “like a prisoner who has been behind bars so long he fears leaving the cell,” he called it. He was teaching English in China during the Tiananmen Square protests—and declined to be evacuated, as he recounted to Radio France, “because my students voted to continue classes. I wasn’t cheering for the CPC [Chinese Communist Party] exactly but I found it interesting that the Party had done the most for the same people who wanted to bring it down.” Before that he bummed around Israel, “during my apprenticeship as a Young Blood, mostly in the Western Galilee where there was so much good livestock—fine little Israeli heifers who knew how to treat a Negro right," when the first IDF incursion into Lebanon took place, a.k.a. the First Lebanon War. 

On the way to the fields that morning the kibbutz work crew stopped to let the second wave of the Israeli army pass “and you couldn’t help but notice that most of their equipment was American. That made me feel like things were going to get worse before they got better.” Describing these long expatriate stays of his youth, China for two years and Israel for three, more or less, Lucius X described a key distinction: “The Israelis seemed disappointed that I was smarter than they thought but the Chinese were usually disappointed I was dumber than they hoped.” In his personal life he was a vegetarian and a self-described “reverse-snob,” preferring to say what he hadn’t done when he visited an exotic locale rather than what he did. Lucius X was a freak about a lot of shit but one personal particularity was his preference always to travel by train.

He once went from his home in Texas to China without flying, instead crossing to Europe by sea from Sao Paulo and in the course of the journey moving by rail in Panama, Argentina, Brazil, Italy, Greece, Israel, Turkey, Georgia, Bulgaria, Romania and Ukraine, as well as the week-long Trans-Siberian from Moscow to Beijing: the ticket cost only $200 bribe included, but took two weeks hanging out in Moscow to find someone to pay off in the still shortage-prone new post-Soviet Russia. Reaching Manchuria he watched in amazement as a crane lifted each train car individually and laid it on a different set of axles because the rail widths in Russia and China were different. He claimed to have been to Egypt seven times without seeing a pyramid although he passed the ruins of Abu Simbal once on a riverboat going down the Nile to catch the train to Khartoum: “That is an example of reverse-snobbery,” he later explained. Arriving in Wadi Halfa, Sudan, which he was told was the hottest inhabited place on earth, when he asked the locals what time the Khartoum train would leave, the completely un-ironic response was, “After it gets here,” and no one knew when that would be either.

In his own Texas this Negro visionary saw the Alamo just twice—both times from the outside and both by accident. He refused to recognize the old Spanish mission as anything more than a symbol of White Imperialism. This exceptional Negro traveled widely from a young age and had certain experiences that, individually, were not life-changing but collectively changed his life. Mostly, he did that on trains. The narrow gauge of Ferrocarrriles de Guatemala became his earliest mobile laboratory to explore the political extremes. This was actually the black man before he knew he was the Black Man, before his social consciousness was fully mature, before his life’s work became defeating the “white bitches,” no matter their race or gender. Working on the theory that the actual journey is more important than the arrival, and often more important than whatever a Negro does after he arrives Lucius X—“the X-Man,” as he was already beginning to be called—concentrated on the trips themselves, avoiding airplanes and airports as much as possible, cars and highways too, as merely superficial means of “getting there.” Intercity and internationally his preference was to move by rail and the lessons he learned were both cultural and moral: On a train to Algiers for no good reason, the toilet in the rail car was a hole in the floor and there was no t.p. to wipe with and he discovered why in Arab society you don’t touch people with your left hand.

In fact the young Black Rebel owed most of these early discoveries about life to talking to people in railroad carriages. His most valuable lesson about women, which eventually translated into the writing of Planet of the Hos, came on the Mexican national carrier. Waiting to board the express from Oaxaca to the Distrito Federal he met a hot Brazilian chick and her Swedish boyfriend making the same journey. At Puebla, federales boarded the train with an informant who picked out the couple as drug runners and as the narcs searched the Brazilian babe’s backpack she burst into tears, invoking the sanctity of womanhood, which did not deter the pigs from their search but led young Lucius X to her defense as a Black Gentleman. He was busy ragging the officers when they reached the bottom of her pack and pulled out two large sealed plastic bags: Oaxacan Gold, really good shit, a kilo, easy, and as the pigs prepared to take Lucius X into custody as an accomplice—the young American Negro executed a particularly adroit U-turn and cut the Brazilian chick loose, expressing shock and telling the cops to do their duty : “Arrest the Swedish guy too, he must be involved.” It was then that Lucius X learned one of life’s great lessons, that a crying woman is usually guilty as hell of whatever accusation led to the tears. The only reason he was so late coming to this conclusion was his own rearing among black females. He said that he never saw the women in his family cry.

The train station in Mexico City, located downtown on Avenida Insurgentes, had a cheap restaurant in the basement beside a luggage room where he could leave his gear for a few hours, or a few days, for a few pesos. Whatever money he had he used to buy a torta on the street and take a shower in the public baths, passing his evenings at a French bookstore-cum-café on the Reforma and smoking the last of his herb, if he had any. He never tried to cross the border with contraband, “Your whole vibe changes and a pig can sense that,” he offered years later as practical advice to at-risk Black Youth in his famous Letters to a Young Blood. “Buy your shit when you get where you’re going and smoke it all before you leave,” he advised. His semi-Bohemian lifestyle in Mexico City was financed solely by not renting a hotel room and years later, arriving in China by train from Hong Kong to begin his assignment in the People’s Republic, he also paid a few pennies and like a hundred other peasants he spread a blanket on the courtyard in front of the Guangzhou train station and slept, guarded by the People’s Armed Police, a particularly innovative touch by the Chinese: security for the poor instead of security against the poor that Lucius X was used to at home in the Great Satan. That this same courtyard, he was told, was where the bodies of dead counterrevolutionaries were dumped, as a warning to those who had not taken the time to go to the football stadium to watch the execution, only seemed to add cachet to the experience. This was the beginning of the Black Man writ large.

During breaks at his new job, which were frequent in the Worker’s Paradise, Lucius X took the bus to the coast of the South China Sea. On one trip his ride broke down, leaving our Black Hero talking to a peasant working behind a water buffalo in a nearby field as the engine was repaired.
“Can you read?” the farmer wanted to know. 

“In Chinese?” Lucius X asked. 

His Han characters were coming slowly and he was embarrassed by his lack of facility with the language. He had been told that it would take five years of study to know enough to read People’s Daily which was his Maoist goal. 

“No. In your own language,” the peasant answered. 

The nascent Black Revolutionary’s first impression of the exchange was it was an eastern form of bias, anyone who wasn’t of the Yellow Race was automatically suspect as illiterate—a barbarian even in the eyes of a farmer who spent his day working in ox dung. Instead Lucius X came to realize there was a class distinction among the Chinese themselves, even Communists, and even when talking to foreigners: if you didn’t have an education you had no standing in society, capitalist or communist or anywhere else. Like a nigger at home who doesn’t have a coherent rap or worldview, you’re just taking up space—in the People’s Republic, just another mouth to feed. It was then, with this foundation in revolutionary practice that Lucius X made his critical breakthrough in revolutionary theory. Race is not about skin color, it’s about education or its handmaiden, money—it’s about power, and people who say they don’t like niggers are only using skin color as a means to get more cash, he wrote in his journal at the time, now on display at Patrice Lumumba University in Kinshasa. The page is dated July 1, 1988, his Independence Day, the same day he composed the first draft of “On Shooting a Pig” and a date that many have come to recognize as marking the Liberation of the Negro Intellectual in modern America. He never felt he “knew” the Chinese just as whites, including those he called “media bitches” at home in the U.S., who prey on the Black Man and his Hispanic brothers and sisters, don’t really know him or his people. How wrong can you be? Very wrong indeed, Lucius X learned, as an American Negro abroad. After China, after this introduction to another culture, which he translated into the internal reality of his own Black Manhood, his main interests became the very social constructs by which we live and what he called “the currents of human experience,” exemplified by differing forms of connectivity, expressed most often by political corruption and “the biggie,” race: read, education, class and money. That was his revolution. That was his civil war, as well. Through trial and error over the years his rap became immaculate, often practiced in train cars.

Despite his affinity for words, Lucius X believed more in numbers—especially measurements —“and the healing power of human touch. The Black Man has been greatly misunderstood on his journey across North America, I would say,” he remarked in an oral history not long before his passing in Mexico on the 12th of last month, by his own hand, after a decades-long period of ill health. His sickness was diagnosed as a kind of “metaphysical dysfunction” common among Black Men born in the Pre-Barack age, brought about by living too long in the toxic white environment of the U.S.

“We’re very much team players not the lone wolves or rogue elephants the media portray. There’s no egotism to speak of in the community of Black Scholars, like me, not like white guys who want all the headlines and the chicks. The Negro intellectual is humble and sensitiveBarack and I for example,” he said, “Dr. King of course—even the greatest X-man of us all, Brother Malcolm whom I have often been compared to—we all share or shared an extraordinary sensitivity I would call it.” He noted however, “White people misinterpret that sensitivity as vulnerability which it is not.” In the world of journalism he was known in his lifetime for striking honesty: from his earliest days it’s said that other children called the young Negro “Honest Lucius” for his spoken veracity—and “Lightfinger Lucius” for the ease with which he expropriated ill-gotten goods from those he called the “the Oppressors," also known as The Man. Lucius X claimed not to be “a big reader” but he respected books as the still formidable technology of his day.

His favorite titles were The PrinceThe Little Prince, the last few pages of Billy BuddLight in the PiazzaMaigret and the Hotel MajesticPlanet of the Apes and Bridge Over the River Kwai, the last two works both by the underrated French author Pierre Boulle. From time to time he also re-read Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan in the original francais, Caesar’s The Gallic Wars, in the Latin, The Conquest of New Spain by Diaz del Castillo in Spanish and Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms which he said he always liked to pick up and hold in its paperback version in bookstores or in the library because of the romantic covers. Challenged by an interviewer who pointed out that none of these works was created by a Black Artist, Lucius X reluctantly amended the list to include his own Babylon on the Colorado 2.0, “because of the big balls displayed in getting the story and the sheer humanity of the primary protagonist, me.” This multi-faceted Negro was also briefly, during a wild “youth” in which he changed locales like his underwear, or just as frequently, a classically-oriented Soul Train dancer. His 1982 solo on the Saturday morning television show scandalized the black entertainment industry because he chose the white-penned work "Shake Your Booty" by KC and the Sunshine Band for his performance. “Even white boys get it right from time to time,” he explained of his choice. Lucius X also played a mean horn and was adept at the skin flute. In his short life, he wore many dashikis. After his first arrest he said he felt journalism not politics more suited his native-born abilities.

“I’ve always had a talent for pissing off white people and I’ve tried to put that to good use. What did Joan Didion say? Reading The White Album got me started writing, you know—that book and the influence of my mother who felt that hitting the keys on a typewriter should sound like gunfire. Didion said that ‘writers are always selling somebody out,’ and yeah, I’ve found that’s substantially true. My only request of those who end up doing it to me is please please please spell my name right. There’s no ‘o’ in Lucius, that’s the mistake everybody makes, that and underestimating the proud African-American Male.” In his professional life Lucius X was principal founder of the Gangster School of Journalism, “Gangsta J” as it is now called, “Guerrilla J” in Southern climates, in which whatever the reporter does to get the story is permissible so long as the work exposes the "Oppressive White State” that Lucius X believed “has in effect made Negroes illegal. I would consider myself,” he wrote recently, in one of his last personal dispatches, in answer to a reader's question that forced this Quintessential Thug to open an unblinking eye on his own mortality, “the arch-typical ‘strong Black Man.’ The strong and silent type, yes—it’s a stereotype but my experience is that many stereotypes are true. What people don’t understand is not the behavior but why they see the behavior they do. The Black Man is very often called a pussy-hound because it seems like we chase chicks so much. It’s true, we do, but what people don’t understand is that this isn’t just wanting to bust a nut, or wanting to get our groove on, we’re not just trying to get a little, we are actually doing The Man’s wife or daughter not because it feels good but to make up for the rape of our women back in the day, in the cotton fields and in the Big House, you feel me? It’s a form of Revolutionary Retribution, for all intents and purposes not sex at all, we’re merely avenging the Black Woman’s honor. Unfortunately no one seems to understand that and the irony is that even Black Chicks get on our case for infidelity, can you believe that shit?” Throughout his career, Lucius X tried to create an authentic Portrait of the Black Revolution in this country, "etched in charcoal," as he described it, "and painted in black."

Lucius X’s personal history, his biography, autobiography and auto-obituary are the life and times of one of the most extraordinary Negroes of our age, an "International Nigger" as he called himself, the ultimate "Blood without Borders” as he was known by the press. Arrests are important not because of the individual accusations of wrongdoing which are always lies told to demean the Black Man but instead to track the brother’s movement: Going down for delivery of a controlled substance in Philly in ’09, for example, is critical not for the specific charges filed but to show definitively that the brother was in Philadelphia when he got popped, which might otherwise be in doubt, the when and where not the how or why, which are indecipherables of Black Identity. The Auto-Obituary of Lucius X is actually misleading however. A-O is more a utility, the software that enables the hardware that is often nine-mil. The auto-obituary is written when the brother is still above ground, still breathing, still running his game whatever that game may be—when he is not yet lying on a slab in the mortuary, death by a thousand Glocks you might say—when there’s still “shit to come,” at least theoretically, which has value in our culture whether it gets done or not. What matters, Lucius X believed, is whether a plan is righteous and how smooth is the rap that goes with it. If he gets all the chicks, fine, that’s well and good, but pussy is not what he’s after. “After you complete your first good draft, keep updating, once a year at least take time out to talk to your Inner Negro even if it’s only for a few minutes and make the changes, like with a résumé, which in a way is exactly what it is,” he said of auto-obituary. “Keep that bitch up to date. Living in this motherfucker, you never know when you’ll need it, you feel me?” The auto-obituary resembles a life’s résumé, so to speak, the highpoints of what one has done and was capable of, skills and references included. Like most résumés there’s a tendency to include what one wishes were true or would be true if given the chance and in fact there’s nothing wrong with that generous view of one’s own life. In the Black Diaspora we are less likely to be critical. “Each to his own, you feel me, we didn’t get credit for building the country. Is it so wrong if we take extra credit for tearing it down?”

“Some have called me a narcissist. That’s not true at all. The real issue is why some people are not as interested in me as I am in myself. All I’ve done is adopt the white man’s methods, nicht wahr? But have I crossed some sort of racial Rubicon of self-regard or am I merely showing the same colossal self-interest that Caucasians have manifested from the first moment their skin turned white? The Man,” Lucius X famously wrote, “has destroyed entire civilizations in order to look at his reflection in the broken glass. Merely because I am a Negro, does that mean I cannot kick ass and preen afterwards?”

Lucius X's most important nonfiction covered the spectrum of Lone Star reporting in recent decades and explored a rich vein of small town bullshit in Travis County, Texas, except in this world Caucasians not Negroes serve as comic relief. His statistical study, “They Shoot Niggers, Don’t They?” for Texas Mostly precipitated the dramatic change in views of how white cops behave in black communities, pointing to the hypocrisy of the White Press which has served as primary enabler in police-sponsored genocide perpetrated against the American Negro. “Not to be radical or anything, that is why I created auto-obituary,” he recalled at the end of his journey, “to set the record straight. If white so-called journalists can’t get it right when the Negro is alive, at least we can make sure those bitches don’t get away with their lies when we’re dead.” Historically and in terms of his literary contribution Lucius X is best known as author of what is considered the greatest single work of Post-Revolutionary Black Literature, the unique piece of writing that has served to light a fuse for an entire generation in The Struggle. Nigger on the Run is the chronicle of the small-town thug Flood, the mythic “every Negro,” a gangster who escapes arrest in Mississippi where he’s been robbing supermarkets after parole and goes to West Africa and discovers his own personal Promised Land. Like the author himself, Flood has three balls but unlike Lucius X he lacks the self-control to deal with the waves of masculinity that eventually destroy him.

He has capped a pig as the story begins, and just been executed, and his time on the Dark Continent is recounted by another condemned prisoner as Flood had described his trip to the Motherland to his cellmates. The “conceit” of Nigger on the Run, as first hailed by critics, is that the antihero Flood experienced prejudice but that is not why he embarked on a life of crime. His childhood was happy and he was well-educated, he was merely corrupt like The Man himself, and the beauty of his “return to Africa, where he only been one time in his life,” as the narrator tells us, is that the African experience allows Flood to rise above baser instincts that he was born with, the sociopathic urges caused, in part, by having three big ones. Only when he returns to the source of his dysfunction, Mississippi, is he doomed. In this short work Lucius X portrays a felonious brother "who achieves Black Liberation not in America but from America," according to Michiko Kakutani of the Times. Denzel Washington who is preparing to perform in a stage adaptation has described the role of Flood as the most difficult in the Black Oeuvre, "similar to Hamlet but deeper." Lucius X’s one-man show Black Rage features the Negro alone on stage, sitting in a chair with a bright light in his eyes like a police interrogation, rapping about his experience as a Black Warrior in America. Lucius X’s equally-acclaimed experimental work Babylon on the Colorado 2.0 relates the origins of Gangster Journalism during the author’s “misspent youth” as a newspaper reporter in what was then small-town River City, now big-city Austin, Texas, and remained his personal favorite. BOC 2.0 has been described as an example of Black Art that can truly be said, according to the New Yorker, “to be one of the few multi-generational works of American non-fiction, a book that will still be read centuries if not millennia from now.” Rejecting the historical role of the Negro as “victim” of the nefarious white man and woman (Lucius X found little difference between the Caucasian sexes in terms of exploitation of blacks, “only with white chicks it seems like fun”), instead this revolutionary Negro chose the role of an equally-nefarious Black Avenger. The object of his Black Justice: “The Man who tries to beat us down and deny sus a piece of the American pie.” Thus, the Black Circle is closed. With race as a continuous backdrop to his own extraordinary narrative, and having lived most of his life in the South, including segregated schooling in Alabama, back in the day, Lucius X wrote that he was actually first called nigger in a Scarsdale, N.Y.

His own personal run-ins with racism were mostly centered around obtaining an education “with the White Man trying to put his foot on my neck. Education is not just a civil right,” he wrote in an open letter to then-U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, whom he described as a lying white liberal bitch: “It is the civil right and without it you’re fucked, which is what The Man been trying to do to me.” The Black Revolutionary described the University of California San Francisco where he did his graduate work in nursing before being kicked out for raising the issue of UC’s poorer care of black children as “the single most segregated environment” he ever saw in modern-day America. The much-anticipated narrative of his time as a R.N. in San Francisco—A Nigger in Nursing—was posted online. Toward the end of his reporting career Lucius X said he considered George W. Bush the closest he ever saw to “pure evil” in a public figure, "and if not evil, well, he's certainly the biggest son of a bitch." He described the University of California as the single most corrupt institution he personally ever experienced, “far worse than anything I saw in Texas under the Republicans or in China under the Party.” His much-admired masterwork Cathy Comes to China is set during the Tiananmen Square protests and features “a spoiled corn-fed American girl from the Midwest,” as described by the introduction, “who tries to relax straight-laced Maoist society by fucking every Chinese guy she meets.” CCC was unfinished at the time of X’s death, as was most of this Black Artist’s best work including Babylon on the Colorado 3.0, the fictionalized version of his reporting on the Great Capitol Fire. Speaking last year of the possibility Babylon on the Colorado 3.0 will be turned into a film Lucius X expressed a preference in choosing the actor who will portray him for “someone with the gravitas of a young Denzel and the raw sexual magnetism of Idris Elba."  

“Lucius X was a noble Negro. Within the literary community he has already been lionized as a Black Warrior who laid down the spear voluntarily in order to pick up the pen,” said editor Jake Schloss. “He was always a joy to work with professionally, that’s what we in Texas remember most."

Historians agree about X’s seminal role in The Struggle but not everyone agrees exactly what that role was. “My father was a nigger to be reckoned with,” said his daughter, China Bates, speaking of his literary reputation. “That is his greatest legacy—not to be ghetto or anything but he didn’t take no shit off nobody, white nor black nor brown. Asiaticos, tampouco. He made confrontation into a science and an art and I miss him every time I have to go off on some lying white bitch.” Despite being famously modest and humble, “just another nigger” in his own words, Lucius X was inordinately proud of the places he had gone in life and the things he had not seen or not done when he got there. He counted five trips in his youth to Paris chasing a girlfriend-of-the-time and never even glimpsing the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. An equal number of visits to London without seeing Big Ben or Windsor Castle, although an English friend did take him to the gallery of Parliament where he watched a pre-Iron Lady Maggie Thatcher eviscerating opponents, real and imagined.

He changed trains once in New York and even with a long layover did not go upstairs into Midtown: he never visited “The City,” explaining that he often met New Yorkers abroad and the experience left him completely un-interested in knowing the town that shaped them. Another long train layover, this time in Rome—and he did not see the Coliseum. There was a month in Athens without seeing the Acropolis or Parthenon, two weeks in Moscow without viewing the Kremlin or lining up at anyone’s tomb, two weeks in Beijing, back in the day, without seeing the Great Wall or Tiananmen Square: indeed, Tiananmen was closed because the authorities were still cleaning up the blood. During the trip to the Chinese capital he stayed at the empty guest house in Beijing University with his own room for $10 a night, wandering the hutong during the day and fancying himself later as the first Negro and last Westerner in Beijing to pay $10 for anything more substantial than a cup of tea. There were two years in San Francisco without riding a cable car or seeing the Gold Gate Bridge—except once, by accident, when he took the wrong bus. In perhaps his proudest moment of non-awareness of his surroundings, halfway through a two-year stay in Minneapolis, working on the pediatrics ward of the county hospital, talking to another R.N. at the nurse’s station Lucius X asked what was the name of the river running through town and his co-worker turned to him, eyebrows raised, incredulity on her face, and replied, “It’s called the Mississippi.” Through the years he passed Machu Pichu a dozen times on buses crisscrossing South America and never once stopped. A half-dozen visits to Brazil, sometimes for months at a time, but never Rio. All of which made where he did go and what he did see when he got there all the more impressive. To say nothing of what he did. “In Negro veritas,” he often explained.

Lucius X declined to become involved in the movement to pay African-Americans for the harmful effects of slavery—even though he himself was the descendant of slaves. This exceptional X-Man said that he was instead a believer in so-called “reparations-on-the-go” in which blacks take from white society, in small chunks, compensation for past wrongs, usually when no one is looking. Lucius X estimated that in his own life he achieved the often-cited but rarely-reached $20,000 figure that blacks have asked of the federal government as indemnification for slavery and Jim Crow, “mostly on the bulk aisle at Whole Foods.” Although not merely because of the quantity expropriated, the Black Revolutionary explained, in characteristic modesty, “but because of Whole Foods’ high prices.” “His honesty was like a breath of fresh air in a world where the egos of undeserving hipsters often run wild,” wrote the Times at the opening of The Pool Man Commeth.
In summing up his own life Lucius X said he attempted to “reach the other side” in which he could express his Black Manhood not without fear of retaliation by so-called white bitches, male and female, Black and white—something which he doubted was possible—but without the retaliation having any effect. That was the goal of his life, not fame nor fortune, not the most pussy nor the best herb, “but the coherence of my rap. Commentators have read me too literally, missing the allegory,” he said. Except in matters of race Lucius X was, he declared, “all about doubt and uncertainty because that’s a nigger’s life in this motherfucker, even for the virtuous right-thinking morally-centered three-balled African-American male like me.” The frequent criticism leveled against his work that he turned whites into “stick figures” was particularly misplaced, he countered. “We know white people. How could we not, working in their homes and kitchens and driving them around? Taking care of their spoiled little fuckhead kids? But they don’t know us because when they go to the Black Community they’re always just passing through, like tourists, you dig? We are in their homes to work, usually to clean up the messes they’ve made.” In lieu of flowers the X family asks those over sixteen to fire up a fat one and “put on some funk.” Preferably “Early in the Morning,” by the Gap Band. 

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Purely Consensual Sex at the Texas Capitol

            The world has changed in only a few weeks and it now seems a legitimate question to ask a powerful politician or administrator if he/she has ever been the subject of a sexual harassment complaint. In a prior time that would have been like asking “Do you beat your wife?” but apparently, metaphorically and literally, a lot of wives have been beaten and the new inquiry has developed a certain instant legitimacy. To avoid a witch hunt, perhaps the correct question should be, instead, “Have you ever been found to have committed sexual harassment?” since an accusation is just that. Among those in high public positions in Texas who have declined to answer that question recently is William McRaven, chancellor of UT System, with 14 institutions and 234,000 students under his authority; the leaders of Texas A&M System, Texas Tech System and the Texas State University System. House Speaker Joe Straus was at first unforthcoming regarding any issues in the House of Representative—his press person Jason Embry was asked before Straus announced he would not seek reelection and the Speaker’s Office took ten days to respond no the Speaker himself has not done it and Speaker Straus has "no information responsive" to the issue of sexual harassment among the 150 members and hundreds of staff of the House. But Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick who is also President of the Texas Senate and the man who feminists in the state most love to hate, replied without hesitation, through Secretary of the Senate Patsy Spaw who said in an email that there have been no confirmed cases of sexual harassment in the Senate during Patrick’s tenure. Spaw also said no money has been paid in settlements. A week out Speaker Straus had yet to respond in any way, especially to that more revealing question, if the state paid to settle any sexual harassment cases during his tenure in office. Stats may lie in a way that a trail of money leaving the State Treasury does not.
            The Texas Public Information Act is not helpful when looking at private industry like movie-making but it should have revealed more in the public domain, especially in UT’s response, than it did. University of Texas Chancellor McRaven has gotten a lot of press about ending sexual improprieties on the campuses he supervises but in response to an open records request his General Counsel’s Office said Admiral McRaven maintains no data on sexual harassment on individual campuses. His lawyers responded with stats regarding UT System Office (about 900 employees) citing two cases but not detailing any money paid at System or on individual campuses, payments which would presumably have to be approved in Austin by the UT Regents, but only if over $1 million. "Please note," McRaven's lawyers informed me, "that while UT System might maintain some information regarding complaints of sexual harassment by faculty or administrators at the institutions, not all complaints and/or outcomes would be maintained by UT System, and UT System does not maintain a list of faculty or administrators who have been disciplined for sexual harassment." Why not? Admiral McRaven may have a reason but it's certainly a legitimate question. 
            Ditto, in College Station. The general counsel of Texas A&M headquarters, with 11 campuses and 143,000 students, said the same thing, that A&M System doesn’t keep stats on what’s happening at individual campuses, on the sexual harassment front. (A&M does admit however to paying more than $100,000 in the last two years to settle such cases, while Texas Tech says there have been a handful of confirmed cases recently, most involving Tech-employed physicians, but no money paid out.) None of these responses seems likely, frankly, but lying in response to open records requests, which was formerly an art form, has become more brazen under the lax enforcement of Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton. "We have no responsive records and nothing further to say on this subject," was the rather testy response of Texas State University System (eight institutions and 42,000 students) in an email written by Assistant Vice Chancellor Therese Sternenberg. Asking university leaders personally seems fair in this instance: for example UT Austin President Gregory Fenves comes from the University of California’s flagship campus, Berkeley, which has been embroiled in a series of harassment claims through recent years; indeed, a UC regent just resigned for harassment. Fenves' press person Gary Susswein said in an email that Dr. Fenves has never been accused at UT, UC "or anywhere else" but he wants $200 to release the university's stats, which sounds like using administrative charges to avoid disclosure, which is illegal. Also at UT's flagship Dr. Clay Johnston dean of the startup Dell School of Medicine said he has never been accused. Like Fenves, Johnston is a UC product, this time from the healthcare campus, in San Francisco, which is source of much of the University of California's latest contribution to the racism and sexual harassment debate. The San Francisco Chronicle just reported that UCSF fired its chief harassment investigator earlier this year, after alleged falsification of dates and hiding of files from auditors, which goes back to a time when Johnston was a high official on the UC San Francisco campus. (Berkeley gets all the headlines for bad practices but it is actually UCSF led by Australian pediatric researcher Sam Hawgood which has had many of the most discriminatory outcomes in public higher ed. Hawgood himself is said in the past to have referred to African-Americans as "abos," shorthand for aborigines, which in this context would be niggers. To his credit Dr. Johnston has criticized his old employers as regards race.)
            Dr. Johnston's boss Bill McRaven has been less forthcoming. The retired admiral and SEAL-in-Chief just issued a statement on his lack of interest in running for governor, he travels the country telling audiences how to change the world (one starts, McRaven says, by making one’s bed in the morning) and he leads an institution, a university that has historically been fertile ground for harassment, sexually-, racially- and fraternity-related. Notably he also comes from a position of great power in another institution, the U.S. Navy, in which the modern issue of sexual harassment was born with the Tailhook Scandal of 1991, at a convention in Las Vegas, involving 90 victims (men and women) and featuring naval officers (aviators not SEALS like McRaven) as perps. The other three Texas university system leaders, John Sharp at A&M, Robert Duncan at Tech and Brian McCall at Texas State also all came from an institution, the Texas Legislature, that would seem to be fertile ground for wrongdoing, with 181 very powerful men and women and a host of subservient staff and lobbyists. Except, at the very outset, the word from the Texas Capitol was that nothing like that goes on in Austin. One member mentioned a former lawmaker, a black guy from Houston who exposed himself to his aide in his office a few years ago. Mostly, speaking of sex, what was reported early on in Austin, unlike what Jody Kantor and the Times' exceptional all-girl crew originally reported in Hollywood, was the consensual kind.
            There is a rumor, as yet unverified and possibly unverifiable, that a male state senator was caught this session in the bathroom of a hotel a few blocks off Congress Avenue getting a blowjob from someone not his wife. What's the big deal? That senator is Caucasian and from an urban district, not that that matters. There’s actually nothing wrong with sex in a public place, it seems to me, unless it wasn't discreet or coercion was involved. A few years back a female member was said for instance to have had sex with a lobbyist on the floor of the Texas House, when not in session, obviously. This liaison like the unnamed senator's clandestine hummer was Democratic action, interracial as well, not that there's anything wrong with that, either. The legislator is no longer in the House but the lobbyist is still very influential in the Capitol and is refusing comment on how their hips allegedly came to meet. Decades ago a legislative staffer, this is an absolutely true story, set out to have sex with every member of the Legislature and made it into the sixties, if memory serves, before she was uncovered, so to speak. But the Texas Capitol was majority-Democratic then and, we are told, D’s are more prone to sins of the flesh than are R’s. Still it seems unlikely that harassment is totally absent in our modern-day Republican-dominated state government. And universities are particularly likely locales. Just a few months ago UT Austin bid a tearful farewell to Vice President for Diversity Gregory J. Vincent, who left to become president of Hobart and William Smith Colleges in upstate New York. The reason for Vincent's departure has since evolved and now appears to be that he engaged in a series of extramarital affairs on campus and used public funds to woo his conquests. The relationships were reported, once again, to be consensual but still illustrate the nexus between sex and money in the public domain. (On this matter Mr. Susswein, who is UT President Fenves' spokesperson, has refused comment as has Dr. Vincent himself.)
             A female House member mentioned recently that Speaker Straus’ leadership at the Capitol has not seemed to be the kind that lends itself to anything in flagrante. Straus is a big family guy, but the Speaker’s silence was not heartening. And we have yet to include surveys of much of the gun-toting side of Texas government, including the National Guard which apparently under direction of the Governor's Office is refusing to answer any harassment questions at all. The last executive director of the Texas Military Department was removed for sexual harassment more than a year before the Weinstein allegations began to shake the country. In law enforcement both the Highway Patrol and Texas Rangers, under the umbrella of the legendary Texas Department of Public Safety, have a long and ugly history, actually. The prior Director was removed after retaliating against a female Highway Patrol staffer who complained that a sergeant exposed himself, and the Director before that was removed for chasing a female employee around the office. She got $100,000 as settlement, by the way, in what seems to be the a popular penalty in these cases. DPS is still described, even by other cops, as a white male environment with sexist and or racist tendencies. With 6,000 commissioned gun-carrying officers DPS is a semi-rigid military hierarchy in which women are present but mostly powerless in the upper ranks. Macho is rule one, especially among the Rangers. But of course the likeliest bombshell on the harassment front after the Texas National Guard is the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, with 150,000 prisoners living in the most dependent position imaginable, across the state. 
            A month after my first open records request, TDCJ lawyer Sharbel Sfeir was still trying to convince me that the Department of Criminal Justice didn't understand what "total payments made to settle sexual harassment cases" or "total number of sexual harassment cases" meant. What it meant was a big problem in the state's prisons: when the stats were finally released they showed, in the past two and a half years, 870 complaints of sexual harassment among employees, per Sharbel Sfeir, and 303 complaints by prisoners against guards. It's unclear from TDCJ's statement whether these were confirmed or merely alleged. More interesting is who in power has answered the question openly. Dr. Fenves did, as noted. Austin’s acting police chief Brian Manley who is being considered for the top cop’s job just said no, that is no accusations have been made against him. Isn't that a fair question to ask of a man would be Chief of Police? Like the National Guard, City of Austin officials are stalling, unwilling to say if they've made any payments to settle with victims. The City has appealed to Attorney General Paxton. In one of the few instances in which the capital city's elected officials, who have a reputation for being holier than thou, actually appear more enlightened than the rest of the state, Travis County chief executive Sarah Eckhardt answered that she has not, either. Women need to speak up in this regard, too. Times have changed for everyone. It may not be the answer that is as important as the answering.

Monday, September 4, 2017

Justice, or Just Us: the Curious Case of Dawnna Dukes

             Dawnna Dukes is no ordinary civil rights heroine. She’s like a superhero in civilian dress, glossy and well-coiffed, a material girl with a material girl’s concerns until it comes time to kick a little ass. In her daily life she’s a state representative from a minority district of the Texas capital city who for much of the last quarter-century has had a successful legislative career until she became the subject of a series of critical stories in the press and was charged by the D.A. with official misconduct. She comes from a once politically-powerful African-American family with a background in accommodation and in civil rights, old-school American Negroes in a black-dominated slice of Texas that no longer exists. Rep. Dukes recently showed up two hours late for her arraignment in district court and if you have a nonconformist streak you may like that even if you don’t like her. Knowing a few aspects of her life and career are helpful in judging her public persona: She has trouble reading a clock, or a calendar, and trouble finding a babysitter. She’s been extremely popular in her district and less popular among her colleagues in the Travis County delegation to the House of Representatives. She knows her hometown better than most, including knowing the racial dynamic in a capital city that has not been at all friendly to blacks but, crucially, whites think it has. With these givens—the clock and the babysitter, and the faux-liberal persona of the state capital in the context of the modern civil rights struggle—instead of lying down she has chosen to lock and load. Presumably we will learn more when the trial begins, in October.
            In a recent podcast of the Texas Tribune, four white journalists contemplated Dukes’ arraignment. The discussion went from the charges she faces to her attendance during the just-ended legislative session. A comment, apparently made by Tribune executive editor Ross Ramsey was that “her record speaks for itself,” as if absenteeism, and her politics, which has sometimes involved alliances with Republicans, is somehow related to the criminal charges she faces. This is a frequently-cited connection that the prosecution will presumably try to work in, in her trial: because she’s arguably “missing in action” (recently named to Texas Monthly’s list of worst lawmakers) that somehow proves her guilt of the criminal charges. Interesting also is that the comment about her record speaking for itself was made by the Tribune which was the first publication to print charges of malfeasance against Dukes and which she is said to blame for starting the momentum toward a lynching—although the daily newspaper the American-Statesman, long viewed as suspect in the minority community, picked up the story and pursued it relentlessly and without much regard to the evidence. Ramsey, the Tribune’s executive editor, also mentioned that Dukes’ troubles have not led to any intervention by other legislators, “because there’s no upside,” which is an understatement and an idea that we’ll return to. In the meantime Rep. Dukes is keeping her powder dry but it seems likely that her trial will feature an attack as well as a defense. “They all do it” is a frequent refrain in official misconduct cases and may be a valid response here but is something Duke is mostly not suggesting. She says she’s not guilty. As regards the press, generally, it’s hard to imagine how the coverage could have been more biased.       
            Recently, new District Attorney Margaret Moore who is herself the daughter of a former member of the Texas House gave Rep. Dukes an ultimatum: She had until the end of business on August 1 to resign her office in return for the dropping of criminal charges. In addition Dukes would have to seek drug and alcohol counseling and pay $3000 “restitution.” As it happened I was having a late lunch with Dawnna Dukes the same day, in Round Rock, at a restaurant where the specialty was creole. We’d met a couple of hours earlier at the back door to the Capitol, the northern entrance, looking out on the University of Texas, where my first question as we walked to her car was, “Are you going to resign?” and she responded by pausing with her walker, reaching up with her good hand and tilting down her sunglasses, in order to roll her eyes at me, as if to say, “Are you kidding?”
            On the drive to Round Rock her telephone lit up with email and messages from well-wishers, including legislators. This is her new phone, it should be noted, since her old iPhone will be evidence in court. At the restaurant, Margaret Moore’s deadline came and went without Dawnna even looking at her watch. Then again she never looks at her watch, probably because she doesn’t wear one. She did offer one bombshell over gumbo: Her defense team would include fellow Democratic legislator Rene Oliviera of Brownsville, who is said to be the best courtroom lawyer among some very able advocates in the House. Should be an interesting few days at the Travis County Courthouse—the only questions being why she was selected for prosecution and how the back scenes intrigue will play out. Cell phones and cell phone towers have adopted a particular prominence in recent years in criminology, and in espionage, almost as important as DNA and email, and Dukes’ iPhone which is probably the most important tool in her daily legislative work will be front and center in her trial as well. The representative is accused of claiming a reimbursement granted to House members in between legislative sessions that the D.A. will argue is only granted for work actually done in the Capitol, while her phone will show that she never left home. That’s the technological end of the case. Ideologically there’s race—the issue that the Texas capital city, try as it might, cannot seem to avoid despite the city’s self-promoted reputation as the liberal mecca.
            The Texas House of Representatives, where the case arises, is a unique environment. Every two years, for five months it’s like lemmings migrating or, better, like zebras trying to cross a swollen river with crocodiles in the water, or, even better, like over-the-top First World War-era France, as the troops are trying to reach the next set of trenches, except the danger is the guy beside you not the enemy in front of you. The last analogy, World War I trenches, is probably best: Dukes has spent 24 years in the House, most of her adult life—elected at age 29—a black woman who has not only survived but thrived in the ultimate old white boys’ world. People thought that under criticism by the daily newspaper and the capital's old guard white liberal establishment she would fold up her tent and sneak away—and originally that was the plan, to quit. She was tired and harassed when the prior D.A. first offered a deal. Then Dukes’ backbone stiffened and she decided to slug it out. Guilt or innocence aside, you probably wouldn’t see much backing down from most self-respecting members of this House, Democrat or Republican. It’s a pretty tough crowd.
            As the district attorney’s deadline was passing, Dukes was telling our waitress to box up the rest of her meal for take-out. The representative was not sweating nor biting her lip with indecision. As she gathered up her things it was a good moment to check her out, especially in light of prosecutors’ claims that she’s using drugs. I’m a RN by training, that doesn’t make me an expert on drug abuse but working in modern American healthcare you do learn a thing or two about opiates and those who use them. To me, Dukes didn’t particularly fit the profile, especially since, not to belabor the obvious, there’s been no evidence presented of abuse. Her sclera were bright and white—of course eye drops will do that for you, too—but her pupils were not contracted, which is a telltale sign of morphine use. Only a pee test would tell for sure and because she may well be taking pain medicine even that would not be definitive. But there was none of the affect you see with people who are taking too much, or taking what they should not: she was neither inappropriately giddy nor did she become morose, there was no word salad—no flight of ideas—she was not “tripping,” to use the vernacular. In our conversation about being black in the criminal justice system as I made an unfair personal comment about District Judge Julie Kocurek whom I believe symbolizes racism in the county courthouse, Dukes quickly corrected me: “You shouldn’t say that,” she said. She was tuned in and appropriate in the conversation, probably more so than me. She was slightly paranoid but then a lot of people are out to get her: including the daily newspaper, the district attorney and some of her colleagues in the House. She’s been wearing a bullseye publicly for the better part of two years.
            Rep. Dukes has been under a lot of pressure certainly and what’s remarkable is how well she has stood up. She has been described as a criminal, basically, by the Texas Tribune and the Austin American-Statesman, called a discredit on the Legislature by Texas Monthly—and now the district attorney is trying to portray her as a junkie. You may say, well, morphine is dulling her senses to what kind of trouble she’s really in. Drug use is always possible, everywhere in society, but that didn’t seem to be the principal dynamic at work with the woman I met for lunch. What I saw—and you have to know the Texas House of Representatives, have been a member or watched the action often enough to understand how the system works—what she looked like to me was a House member who is being fucked with on her legislative program and is deciding how to defend what she wants and screw her opposition in the process. That afternoon she didn’t look like a victim at all. She looked more like a predator: a mid-sized cat—not a lion or a tiger—more a panther or a puma, not “red in tooth and claw,” or whatever the verse of poetry is, not yet, but like a feline maneuvering, waiting for an opportunity to sink her teeth into her opponent’s neck.
            At lunch she was completely serious and almost clinical in her approach to her problems, a not-at-all-whiny view of the fortunes of power—not because she’s unconcerned but because she’s experienced and is not only going to fight but also try to obtain an advantage. That’s the House way. What did seem to irk her, to judge by our conversation, was that the people attacking her thought she would just roll over. The only concrete effects of her legal troubles that she admitted to were that the endless bad press has limited her ability to fundraise, a weakness that can be deadly for any politician. This is already a very expensive legal duel for her and certain to get more so. She also fears the D.A.’s comment about drugs will lead to Child Protective Services scrutiny. “I adopted my daughter!” she said, as her voice rose for the single time in our three hours together. CPS has been a target of the Legislature recently, due to money issues and bad stewardship, and a member of the Legislative Black Caucus mentioned to me that, in private discussions earlier in the year with CPS bigwigs, the member they most feared was Dukes, because of her “knowledge of the money and where the skeletons are buried.” Now Child Protective Services is in a position to turn the tables on the inquisitor. Dukes also said, elliptically, she is already under a drug testing regime, perhaps as an adoptive parent.
            While I was still looking for signs of instability at lunch what I saw instead was a surgical scar across her neck, half-concealed by make-up, from a car crash late 2013 that Dukes says led to many of her absences. I worked for a couple of years on a neurosurgery unit where we took care of patients who had had spinal surgeries and her scar looked very much like one of those, what’s called an “anterior approach,” the front of the neck instead of the back, probably at C-3 or C-4. But that can’t be, because the press has intimated that the car crash was just an excuse for her absences or inattention, and most recently for drug abuse. She was also wearing an arm brace, which could be a prop, but what’s most interesting here is that Democrats and liberals in the press who all claim to “understand” healthcare and the opiate crisis, unlike heartless Republicans, are trying to bury her for the sequelae of a bad car wreck. Her explanation of the famous remark that recently got her into hot water, saying in a legislative meeting that she had just taken morphine and that her speech was suffering, seems straightforward and plausible: She was having a procedure on her arm, she explained, was given morphine—which is a wonderful drug by the way, and still very very very widely used in healthcare—and then was contacted by phone, by an aide, and told that she needed to return to the legislative meeting she was missing. She went back to the House and the rest is the stuff of media gossip and prosecutorial speculation. Columnist Ken Herman recently wrote about “asking Dukes about her drug use,” as if it has been definitively established she smokes crack. He grabbed her in a hallway of the Capitol, apparently, which is fair, and she refused an interview, which is her right—except she told him that the question was insulting, which it may or may not have been. There are questions about who she hangs out with in her spare time but I didn’t ask at lunch because, frankly, it’s none of my business. Previously, for the record, she was in a relationship for almost a decade with State Sen. Rodney Ellis (who has since left the Capitol to be a county commissioner in Houston) which made her one half of the most potent African-American power couple in the state. Now the relationship she discusses most is with her family. A Republican member who met with her privately, earlier in the legislative session, and who knows Dukes well, said he has seen no sign of dysfunction. Who knows? The surprise is that she isn’t shooting heroin—it’s one of the only accusations that hasn’t been made against her—considering everything else that’s been said. The really poor health habit that she clearly has is smoking cigarettes and, not knowing her well, it’s unclear if she’s smoking more but that’s probably a good bet. Can we move on now from Dawnna Dukes the alleged junkie? 
            The D.A.’s requirement that she undergo drug screening/treatment does indicate something however, a certain desperation on the part of prosecutors. Let me say at the outset that I’ve known new D.A. Margaret Moore for 40 years, since she was an assistant prosecutor in the office she now leads, and she doesn’t have a racist bone in her body. I know because I’m a Negro who looks for that particular anatomy in white public officials. The same can be said of her new head of special prosecutions, former district judge Don Clemmer who will presumably be putting together the case against Dawnna. Judge Clemmer was appointed to the Travis County District Court by Gov. Abbott, as a Republican, and served for almost a year and a half before taking over special prosecutions when Moore won the D.A.’s Office last year. In his short time on the bench Clemmer got rave reviews for fairness and hard work, and he was also viewed as colorblind: as one black defense attorney said, he would rather try a case before Don Clemmer than before any of the black Democratic judges in Travis County, who have reputations for slamming African-American defendants in order to please white voters. Both Clemmer and Moore are decent people, in other words. But having said that, Margaret Moore probably doesn’t have any more concern about seeing that Dawnna Dukes “gets help” for an alleged drug problem than Special Counsel Robert Mueller cares about Donald Trump’s need to stop tweeting-from-the-hip. Moore is there to put people behind bars. Which is fine, that’s her job: She did it as an assistant under longtime former D.A. Ronnie Earle, she did it as Travis County Attorney back in the day and she’s doing it now as the new D.A. The issue here is not Moore, or Judge Clemmer, personally, it’s “institutional racism,” which is a phrase you hear a lot in the capital city these days, meaning that whenever the system has to make a “mistake,” or make a sacrifice for the good of the wider community—that usually means minorities and the poor are going to get it in the neck. Yet local Caucasians still pat themselves on the back for being liberals.
            This is the same district attorney’s office, after all, that has prosecuted blacks at far higher rates in Austin than in Houston or Dallas, which are not liberal meccas, and that has lied to African-Americans for decades about police shootings: using a trick, in the secrecy of the same grand jury room where Dawnna Dukes was charged, a ruse only recently revealed—never asking for indictments of bad cops while the procedure in every other kind of case, including Dukes’ own, has been for the D.A. to present a recommendation for a particular charge. So, it’s not like blacks have no reason to believe Margaret Moore, it’s that we have no reason to believe in the institution she heads. It’s institutional, built into the system through decades of discriminatory practices, although Moore didn’t help by going after Dukes on alleged drug abuse, to force a resignation and “save” everyone a trial, raising an issue that has nothing to do with the case, actually, but was portrayed as concern for Dawnna Dukes’s health. And, coincidentally tainting the jury pool. Previously, the D.A.’s Office is said to have tried to prevent Dukes from using social media, to talk about her own case, in order to insure that she got a fair trial, prosecutors said, another effort to "help" her. I don’t know if Dukes is using drugs or not but I do feel fairly certain that the probability of her illicit drug use is about as likely as the probability that anyone in the D.A.’s Office gives a shit. This is about a conviction. The D.A.’s protestations of concern for Dawnna’s health are like asking a man being lynched if the noose is too tight. But it’s also kind of understandable, in context. And mildly entertaining, if you’re not African-American and, specifically, if you’re not Dawnna Dukes.
            The Travis County Courthouse and the Texas House of Representatives—neither locale is for the squeamish, you hit your adversaries early, often and preferably when they’re not looking. Dukes herself is no shrinking violet, presumably we’ll see a few of her moves at the trial, because this should be quite a contest, important for the community as well as for her personally: the people involved are all competent professionals, with elevated, tight games, and with the House and the courthouse as backgrounds to the action. It’ll be like the Moscow show trials of the 1930s—the crime is political and the potential punishment is a bullet in the back of the head. Race and racism, and legislative backstabbing, are the overriding motifs. The D.A.’s office will argue that Dukes’ former aides, who spoke against her, were motivated only by not liking what they saw in her office. The facts point to another dynamic, entirely. Normally in a criminal case it doesn’t matter why someone goes to police or prosecutors but this is a political prosecution, in every sense of the phrase, in two environments, the Texas Capitol and Travis County Courthouse where a lot of bad shit gets done, which leads inevitably to the question of selective prosecution. Why an African-American? The D.A. needs to answer that, for our sake and for her own.
            In the meantime, people are trying to take advantage of Dukes’ perceived weakness. In her car, riding back to the Capitol, she played a phone message left by a high-ranking Democratic official asking Rep. Dukes to support a proposition that she had previously said she would not agree to, and threatening to attack her from the dais if she did not. The context was of course that Dawnna is already in trouble and can’t afford any more criticism, but apparently she can, because despite the threat she still did not do what was demanded of her. She didn’t play ball, in other words, which is what the Democratic establishment has been asking of her all along. She did however previously play ball, with the Republicans, working with former Speaker Tom Craddick, and some Democrats have never forgotten or forgiven. This doesn’t make her a martyr, or a victim, it makes her a practical politician, as is the district attorney: One of the former Speakers of the House with whom I chatted about the case said that the charges against Dukes would have never gotten this far if Margaret Moore not Rosemary Lehmberg had been in office when the Statesman’s stories first started to appear. But the case is Moore’s now, she went to the grand jury and she must accept responsibility for her actions in office just as Dukes is expected to take responsibility for hers.
            One of Margaret Moore’s most important goals, which she has repeated publicly, is to get Republican-controlled state government to return funding to the D.A.’s Public Integrity Unit that was defunded because of complaints that the unit prosecuted R’s in preference to D’s. Moore can therefore hardly begin her tenure in office by dropping charges against a Democratic lawmaker. Still, good luck with that—getting refunded—said the second former Speaker of the House whom I talked to, who didn’t think it will ever happen, noting that the Travis County D.A.’s Public Integrity Unit left “a bad taste” in the mouths of many Republicans. Now it’s leaving a bad taste in the mouths of some black people. That’s why this is a no-win situation for the new district attorney, Moore is at risk just as is Dukes—simultaneously with her pursuit of the state representative the D.A. is also dealing with a revolt by blacks and Hispanics over disproportionate prosecution of minorities, a problem that Moore promised would be her top priority in office. Yet she is starting her tenure with a high-profile prosecution of an African-American legislator and she must now square pursuing Dawnna Dukes on possible bullshit charges—if they are bullshit, which appears likely—pushed by the ever-clueless and racially-motivated Austin American-Statesman. That’s why everyone from the courthouse crowd to the press to the Democratic establishment wanted Dukes to resign, not because she’s necessarily guilty or because of her alleged personal habits but because a lot of other people’s bare asses are feeling the wind. Another former Speaker of the House, talking off the record, or not for attribution, said that the way this would have worked in the old days is that Dukes would have been persuaded to resign, with charges dropped of course, and then she would have been given a sinecure job in state government to fatten up her pension. That was if it was the old days and if Democrats were still in charge of state government and if Dawnna were willing to take the fall for the “greater good” of the old guard Democratic establishment, which she is not. The debate over selective prosecution that is potentially so deadly for Democrats would never take place, much to everyone’s relief. Instead, race hangs over the Dukes case today as it does over much of “justice” in the capital city, with whites in power and in the press remaining happily in denial about gentrification, segregated schools, bad policing and, crucially, the role of the racially-backward, business-dominated daily newspaper in maintaining all of the above. What Moore and Dukes are both experiencing is the lingering effect of a criminal justice system and a political system in which, in this city, in the end—when push comes to proverbial shove—blacks are still supposed to bend over for white people.
            If you walk through the Travis County Courthouse any day of the week, for example, and look in the courtrooms, the vast majority of defendants are still black, Hispanic or poor in a largely affluent and plurality-white town. What’s wrong with this picture? I peeked in on Julie Kocurek’s courtroom a few days ago because it’s usually Ground Zero for discriminatory prosecution and Maximum Julie was on the bench, busy as usual sending a Negro away, with a Hispanic woman in the wings waiting her turn at sentencing. Dukes’ sole luck is that she did not draw Kocurek’s court or end up facing any of the African-American judges, ex-prosecutors all and, combined, responsible for knocking a couple of percentage points off the black population of the city, by sending Negroes to Huntsville. Because nothing changes here: A recent study showed that black defendants are sentenced to twice as long stays in Travis County Jail as whites for the same offense. “They all do it,” is not a particularly effective defense in public integrity cases like Dukes’ but if, as a former speaker and a former lieutenant governor both told me, whatever Dukes has done (or has not done, keep in mind that she says is not guilty) pales in comparison to other legislative sinners, the question remains, why Dawnna? Race is a good bet. An opportunity has presented itself that no one could resist for the party to rid itself of a troublesome black woman. The other dynamic is of course that in Austin, liberal whites like their minorities grateful and subservient and Dukes has been neither. “Dawnna has not played well with others,” said a longtime political operative who is white and who is appalled at the treatment of the African-American state rep. He said that Dukes has always refused to kowtow to the “white elites” that run the city, a group he said is headed by Congressman Lloyd Doggett and State Senator Kirk Watson. “The Travis County Democratic party is not very democratic,” he added.
            “If they do that to her,” one of the former Speakers of the House said, that is, convict Dukes, “there are two or three hundred former legislators who need to look at their hole card.” In other words, bringing to trial this black woman, when you consider the vast panoply of abuse and bad practices in the Texas Capitol—to quote the movie Apocalypse Now, is like handing out speeding tickets at the Indianapolis 500. The second former Speaker said the rule that the D.A. is using against Dukes, that she had to be in the Capitol to claim reimbursement—that’s not his understanding of the law. The handful of legislators and former legislators I spoke with disputed the D.A.’s understanding of the rule, which means that even if Margaret Moore is correct, and legislators are wrong, Dawnna Dukes is certainly not the only one to have incorrectly claimed the money. But she is the only one who has been charged. This will all be settled by a trial of course, by the jury and by Judge Brad Urrutia, who is new to the bench and like his predecessor Don Clemmer is said to be fair, but you can’t escape the feeling that the disproportionate prosecution of minorities that Margaret Moore wants to end is alive and well and will be taking place on October 12, in Travis County’s 450th District Court. The entire Democratic establishment is watching Judge Urrutia because there needs to be at least one guilty verdict: Margaret Moore only inherited the case but it’s her baby now and an ugly little thing it is. I ran into a member of the Black Caucus a couple of days ago, in a Capitol hallway, and this member pointed up at a fellow legislator’s office and said she knows the guy is paying himself back for travel from his campaign fund and still seeking reimbursement from the state. Which would be illegal. That was part of a five-minute conversation. The Texas Rangers couldn’t do better than 13 counts of Dukes’ use of a $61.50 per diem?
            The first former Speaker added, talking about the most-widespread public claim against Dawnna, that she used her aide to take care of her daughter, which the public has been fixated on, “What she did was wrong but there are plenty [of legislators] who have done worse.” Why weren’t they charged? It’s a fair question. Race as an issue in prosecutions aside, you’re also struck what a small town this can be. Dukes claims kinship to Heman Sweatt, the first black admitted to the University of Texas School of Law and the civil rights pioneer after whom the main courthouse is named. Presumably he’s already spinning in his grave. Margaret Moore, as already noted, is the daughter of Tom Moore, a former representative from Waco and member of the House’s “Dirty Thirty” that fought for ethics reform in years past. Dukes’ first choice for her defense counsel was Mindy Montford, daughter of former State Senator John Montford (who later became chancellor of Texas Tech) but Mindy Montford was hired as First Assistant D.A. by Moore when she took office and is now a co-captain of the opposing team. The case will be tried in Don Clemmer’s old courtroom where he might have been presiding as judge, had he beaten Brad Urrutia in last year’s election, but Clemmer is now part of the prosecution instead. A member of the defense team is also a member of the House Democratic caucus: Rene Oliveira, whose law partner is the mother of Gina Hinojosa, who sits in front of Dukes in Travis County’s House delegation and whose father is state Democratic chairman. The interconnectedness goes all the way down to the detective in the case. The lone witness who testified before the grand jury that indicted Dukes is Texas Ranger Sgt. Richard Henderson whose name also appears on a list of prosecution witnesses in the upcoming securities fraud trial of Attorney General Ken Paxton. Lawyers and politicians are apparently not the only people who are well-connected: Sgt. Henderson has only been with DPS a little over eight years and spent barely six months with the Highway Patrol after leaving the academy, before promotion to Gov. Perry’s security detail, and a couple of years later became a Ranger—an opportunity that most state troopers never get a shot at, or only after a long, long time on the road.
            The good sergeant may have a few high-placed friends himself, in what is described as the original old white boys’ club, the Texas Department of Public Safety. Which doesn’t mean he’s a bad investigator—he certainly knows the Capitol, which could be a good or a bad thing. The cause for concern is that Henderson is yet another part of a practically all-white system that constitutes a criminal justice apparatus that does not have a good reputation for unbiased treatment of Negroes. Dukes said that she made a complaint to the Rangers, by the way, before she was indicted, that the aides involved in “outing” her, also illegally entered her legislative email account after they left state employ and diverted her correspondence to others. If true, it sounds as if there is more at work here than their virtuous response to Dukes’ behavior. The Rangers investigated but thus far have declined to reveal the results—we may hear about that too in the trial, presumably Sgt. Henderson will shed some light from the witness stand. When the trial starts, look for a white guy with a white cowboy hat, standing in the hallway outside the courtroom, waiting his turn to testify, and that’ll likely be our man, because almost all the Rangers are white guys in cowboy hats. Also look a for a few black people there to support Rep. Dukes, but you probably don’t want to look for members of the Legislative Black Caucus. In the House, courage is high but not evenly distributed. Corruption accusations are viewed like the plague, contagious and often fatal.

         The original pursuit of Dukes was conducted by then-D.A. Rosemary Lehmberg who was the last local public official to be accused of substance abuse and in that instance it was documented. Lehmberg was arrested for drunk driving, as you may recall, and then-Gov. Rick Perry was busted for trying to force her from office. Question: As one of Lehmberg’s former assistants asked recently, commenting on the Dukes case, what’s the difference between Gov. Perry giving an ultimatum to Lehmberg that she quit or he would defund her special prosecutions unit, and Margaret Moore telling Dukes to step down or face trial? A threat is a threat, the question isn’t if Moore had the legal right to issue the ultimatum—it is, instead, what is the ethical implication of telling an elected public official to quit or face the consequences, whatever those consequences may be? Why is it that what was so offensive to the sensibilities of Democrats about Perry’s threat is so acceptable in the case of Representative Dukes?
         Interesting also is that Lehmberg faced relatively little blowback for her actions. She was arrested in flagrant violation—she threatened her jailers—she called for the sheriff to intervene to provide her special treatment and she had to be placed in restraint for acting out. With the exception of the governor, calls for her resignation were muted although Lehmberg—who was responsible for thousands of felony prosecutions—was in a far more sensitive position than is Dukes. But Rosemary Lehmberg is a white liberal and lesbian in a political environment, Austin, where being gay and white and liberal is a formidable combination while being a black straight female is not. The former lieutenant governor with whom I spoke said that double standards are not a conversation you really want to have at the Legislature: sending aides out to pick up dry cleaning or lunch or do other personal tasks for their employers, for example, is common, and something that prosecutors already know. But the press even more than the D.A. has been mindboggling in its use of two standards, one for whites and one for minorities.
         Ross Ramsey of the Tribune has repeatedly attacked Dukes’ ethics but Ramsey himself worked for Texas’s last political boss, former lieutenant governor/comptroller Bob Bullock who did more evil in one afternoon than any dozen legislators, Dukes included, will do in their entire careers. To recap: Bullock routinely threatened to kill people who criticized him, as in, “I’ll shoot you,” literally, to those who opposed his wishes, and not as a joke either. Bullock kept the FBI and Travis County grand jury occupied for years on end and although he was never indicted he later admitted doing exactly what he was investigated for, using state airplanes for political and/or personal reasons. There’s a long story in Texas Monthly from a few years back in which Bullock’s former aides recount trying to convince him not to fly a state plane to Las Vegas, to party. More ominously the Dallas newspaper caught Bullock, as lieutenant governor and presiding officer of the Texas Senate, doing “quick counts” in which he misrepresented Senate votes (done by hand, with the lieutenant governor doing the tally, not by machine as in the House) to favor outcomes he wanted. But no one is critical of Bullock who is routinely described as a genius and who happened to be white guy and an old boy in the old boy atmosphere of the Texas Legislature. In many of the stories critical of Dukes the primary expert witness on ethics has been Randall “Buck” Wood, a local attorney/lobbyist and Democratic stalwart who was quoted extensively by the Statesman and Tribune on Dawnna’s lapses. Recently I spent a half an hour on the phone with Wood, in a kind of Kafkaesque experience, him pontificating over the course of thirty minutes about Dukes’ wrongdoing, unwilling to concede a single point, even as regards any similarity between the Perry/Lehmberg dynamic and Moore/Dukes. “I see absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he said of threats to indict Dawnna if she did not resign. But Buck Wood was Bob Bullock’s number two in the Comptroller’s Office before the big man became lieutenant governor and Wood is mentioned in the Texas Monthly piece as trying to dissuade Bullock from taking the state plane to Vegas after Bullock had already used state aircraft for a variety of inappropriate flights that cost the government tens of thousands of dollars, if not more. What was the consequence of Bullock’s wrongdoing? The State History Museum was named after him. Wood even gave the example, in our chat, that if Bullock had asked him to do something political, which would have been against the law for a state employee to do, and Wood refused, which Wood said he would have, “Bullock wouldn’t have liked it but he wouldn’t have said anything.” What bullshit: Bullock wouldn’t have said anything because he would have had Wood’s kneecaps broken. In his FBI file there’s even mention of Bullock buying a Mercedes with cash out of a briefcase. Bob Bullock, another former House member by the way, was a genius but he was also a criminal and Buck Wood, in his rush to judge Dawnna Dukes, also seems to have forgotten his own history. Wood himself was indicted for corruption by the feds, in the Brilab case that brought down former Speaker Billy Clayton. Wood was charged with serving as a go-between in a $5,000 backhander from a union to the speaker. Wood and Clayton beat the federal charges but it destroyed Clayton’s career and the acquittal hardly makes Wood an expert now on right and wrong in public life. Wood fought indictment but he can imagine no circumstances under which this black woman may have been unjustly charged. Well, that makes sense. But it’s actually the Austin daily newspaper, the American-Statesman, that has raised hypocrisy to new levels. Dawnna Dukes is just the latest example. 
         A black former state rep said that there are two centers of public power in Texas, both located in Austin, the Legislature and the University of Texas. The Legislature does what it does, is what it is—there are a lot of different constituencies involved, from across the state. UT is a more controllable dynamic, at least locally. The Austin campus has issues that the local newspaper has not even begun to approach and the avoidance of stories critical of UT has become more pronounced than the actual reporting—including the recent discovery of corruption in admissions, a continuing poor record of blacks in the student body and among faculty, and forgiven loans to faculty at the School of Law—all investigations by other media outlets, principally the Tribune, in the Statesman’s own backyard. What the newspaper has chosen to publish is revealing nonetheless: Two years ago, after a string of sexual assaults on the nation’s college campuses two African-American football players were arrested at UT for rape. The Statesman made the very most of the charges. The timing of the arrests may have been a coincidence but it certainly seemed like the rounding up of the usual suspects to make it appear the university police were doing something about what suddenly was a national issue. The first defendant was tried, involving what prosecutors described as the stronger case, and a not guilty verdict ensued—and the Travis County D.A. dropped charges against the second defendant. Nonetheless these players lives were fucked, and privately Statesman editor Debbie Hiott promised that her staff would review the arrests and the evidence and report on how charges came to be filed in the first place. We’re still waiting. In a recent email explaining what happened, or did not happen, her contention was that the story simply “failed to materialize” but it’s not that there was no evidence, it’s actually that the assigned writer said he never did the reporting. “That was a long time ago,” he explained to me in an email. Going after UT is of course a lot different from going after Dawnna Dukes. 
         Investigative reporting is like public integrity prosecutions—it’s very often not about whether the target is guilty, but how powerful he or she may be. Even as gentrification speeds up, the Statesman’s only reports are about the effects of zoning changes in white neighborhoods, while ignoring the companies involved in buying up land on the minority side of town. At the same time, Hiott has assigned as many as three or four reporters to tracking Duke’s movements and her minimal business relationships. Being too interested in real estate development and big money would be unhealthy for the American-Statesman’s bottom line, by pitting the newspaper against established, powerful business interests like the Chamber of Commerce. Also pertinent is that the Cox family that owns the newspaper is a major landholder in the city, principally downtown where the Statesman campus is located, but other tracts as well, and the trustee for those holdings is the same lawyer, Richard Suttle, who is lobbyist for many of the city’s largest developers and for the University of Texas. Suttle is a major bundler of contributions and is described at City Hall, only half-jokingly, as “the most powerful person in city government,” while his predecessor in the role of go-to development guy was his partner, a lawyer named David Armbrust who was Austin’s previous political kingmaker. Small world, again, and one best viewed, it seems, with a jaundiced eye. The newspaper may not be profitable but the Cox land is a potential goldmine and its value is tied to development which means Debbie Hiott's editorial leadership is compromised, oh, on just about all counts. The newspaper went after Dukes for nepotism, too, lest we forget, but let’s look at one of the city’s most important—arguably, most important—political figure, Congressman Lloyd Doggett. Doggett’s wife was appointed an assistant secretary in the Obama Administration’s Education Department. Doggett’s daughter, who is a primary care physician among many primary care physicians in this city, was made a professor in UT’s School of Nursing and a clinic director for the university. That’s all coincidence of course because among whites there’s only a meritocracy at work. The Congressman certainly never made a phone call and no one was ever aware of who the father/husband of the applicant was. Or, look at State Sen. Kirk Watson whose law firm is said to have received over $4 million in fees from the Travis County Central Health District that Watson works with as senator. Ours is a system, then, in which scrutiny is completely optional—the newspaper and D.A. both choose whom to pursue, and appear very often to base that choice upon skin color. 
         The former lieutenant governor said in our talk that the Cox family, owners the newspaper, “were two old Southern sisters”—actually only one survives—living principally in Atlanta, “who don’t care in the least about prejudice in Austin. You can put that in there,” he added, explicitly, noting there’s no blowback from Atlanta against Executive Editor Hiott based upon questionable calls in coverage, or lack of coverage, of minorities. He also made an observation about Texas Monthly’s recent inclusion of Dukes on the magazine’s list of Ten Worst Legislators. Take a minute and think, as he did, what member of the current legislature, based upon bad behavior, would you consider the most meriting of a position on the magazine’s Worst list? My thoughts go straight to Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick.
         Unlike former Lt. Gov. Bullock who was generally evil in means not ends, I don’t know what Patrick’s methods are but his goals are straight out of the demagogue’s handbook: a kind of modern-day fascism, even as judged by the magazine’s own reporting. But Patrick was not on the list of Worst legislators and the former lieutenant governor with whom I spoke had a theory about that. “If Texas Monthly had named Patrick a worst,” the former lite governor explained, “Patrick would’ve sat down with a copy of the magazine and started flipping through the pages,” not looking at the articles, the ex-politician said, but looking at the advertisements, instead. Then Lt. Gov. Patrick would have picked up the telephone and started calling advertisers in an effort to shut down the Monthly’s business model. A former Speaker, hearing that scenario, thought for a moment and then chuckled, “You know, he probably would,” speaking of Patrick. But instead of challenging someone who might hit back, the magazine’s editors chose Dukes, whose effect on the State of Texas is considerably less noticeable than is Lt. Gov. Patrick’s but who is defenseless to the magazine’s attack. In fact in its citation of Dukes as a Worst member of the Legislature the Monthly’s political editor, R.G. Ratcliffe, specifically noted Dukes’ change of heart and refusal to resign (“Who can ever trust her again?”) as if it was a personal failing that she decided to seek a trial on a criminal charge. Isn’t that a constitutional right? Or does the right to trial only apply to white people? It sounded very much like Texas Monthly was regurgitating the Democratic Party line, and that begs the question why it has been so important to so many people that Dukes resign.
         In any case in Austin now, black is the new white: If Dukes is convicted her replacement has already been chosen, another African-American woman, a lawyer named Sheryl Cole who was mayor pro tem and an unsuccessful candidate in the last mayoral election. Cole is a team player, “she plays ball,” you might even say. Most of the white institutions in the city are pushing her candidacy for Dukes’ seat because Cole has never given the city’s Caucasian leadership cause for fear. The newspaper has publicly called for her to replace Dukes which is a sign that, for blacks at least, Cole’s presence in the House of Representatives might not be in our best interests.
         While on the City Council, Cole was adverse to any issue that would have labeled her as a “black officeholder” (her one claim to African-American fame is having helped obtain a settlement for survivors of an unarmed black “suspect” killed by police.) She was the last African-American City Council member selected at-large by whites as part of the Gentleman’s Agreement for choosing “acceptable” black candidates. And it’s hard to see now how her ethics are any better than anyone else’s. In the last 18 months she has received over $140,000 in payments from Travis County’s Central Health District, which has become the local Democratic Party's favorite slush fund/sugar titty, for unspecified, unbid, “lobbying” services, voted by members of the Central Health board of managers, some of whom she voted to appoint for while she was on the City Council. A small world, indeed.

            There are two stories about the Texas House of Representatives that help in understanding the curious case of Dawnna Dukes, neither about her personally but both instructive in explaining her present circumstances. Back, back in the day, when Dawnna was a child and unaware of her destiny, three young white guys from West Texas were students in the same class at Texas Tech: Jim Rudd, Pete Laney and Tom Craddick, from Brownfield, Hale Center and Midland, respectively. All three ended up in the House, Rudd and Laney as Democrats, Craddick as leader of the tiny but growing Republican Party in the state. When Speaker Gib Lewis took a fall, courtesy of the Travis County D.A., Rudd and Laney opposed each other for the top slot with Craddick throwing the support of his membership to Laney. A decade later when Republicans became the majority Craddick took the speaker’s gavel from Laney in a fight. Dukes’ relationship to these events was passing, she tried to help Laney remain in power but it was an effort doomed to fail when Republicans reached the tipping point in the balance of power. What’s important here is how things turn out at the Legislature—fate plays a big role—people who might appear to be friends or allies or who were allies often end up on opposite sides. Something to keep in mind: Personality can be just as important as party. The second story regards a previous attempt at prosecution of an African-American member. His name was Ron Wilson and he drove a Lamborghini, which is not germane, and represented Houston as a Democrat which is.
            Wilson, who also worked well with Speaker Craddick, was busted by his own leadership for a reimbursement issue. “Something Wilson had been warned about” was at issue, according to a Democrat who was involved. Rep. Wilson’s alleged deeds ended up on the desk of then-Travis County District Attorney Ronnie Earle who was preparing to indict when (according to a Texas Rangers’ intelligence file obtained by open records request) Earle was visited by former House member Craig Washington, who like Wilson is African-American. Washington had been a regular Texas Monthly best, also back in the day, a brilliant legislator in every way who after service in the House took over the legendary Barbara Jordan’s old Texas Senate seat and eventually her seat in Congress. But the key is his time in the House. He had been Ronnie Earle’s seatmate there, the Rangers noted, when Earle represented Travis County as a state rep, small world again. After Washington’s visit the D.A. dropped the case, per the Rangers, who don’t get involved much publicly, most of the time, but whose Company F—covering the Capitol—keeps a file on everyone, just in case, kind of like the KGB. The point is not that Wilson escaped a prosecution because he was black, which would be an unlikely event and was not what happened here, but because he was tight with a powerful politician who was tight with another powerful politician, the D.A. That’s how the system often works. Dukes lacks that kind of connectedness now.
            The two misdemeanors charged include the issue of her use of staff for personal tasks. The felony charges against her all read the same: “Dawnna Mathilda Dukes, on or about October 30, 2013 and before the presentment of this indictment, in Travis County, Texas, did then and there, with the intent to defraud another, to wit: the State of Texas, knowingly make a false entry in a governmental record, and present and use said governmental record with knowledge of its falsity, by instructing her staff to add a false entry to her State of Texas Travel Voucher, and by signing and submitting said voucher to the State of Texas when she knew it contained the false entry, said false entry being that she traveled by personal car on October 5, 2013 to attend to legislative duties in the State Capitol in Austin, Texas.” There are thirteen of these, Counts I through XIII, identical in wording except the dates, a baker’s dozen of alleged felonies for a total the District Attorney describes as “greater than $750 but less than $2500,” and apparently closer to the $750 than to the $2500. There are a couple of details that stand out. One is that the D.A.’s Office guidelines are that prosecutors won’t even consider a fraud case, for example, that is worth less than $50,000—but somehow thirteen felonies have been pulled out of a figure that Dukes’ team indicates is $800 less change. Two is that it was absolutely crucial in the indictments to raise the specter of Dukes’ aides being “forced” to make a false entry even though it was Dukes who signed the voucher, because for the prosecutors the testimony of her aides will be necessary to sway the jury—as a member of the D.A.’s staff described it, the aides were offended at being told to make a false entry. For Dukes, the lesser charges may actually be the hardest to beat.
            In the trial, both Dukes’ guileless ex-aides and their alleged repulsion at her lack of ethics will be on display but there’s good reason to believe they may be less innocent than they seem. Talking to the first former Speaker of the House, I mentioned that the aides apparently went to the press and he said, yes, but the real question is who approached the aides before they went to reporters? In other words, who prompted the leak? This is the House of Representatives and “guileless” or “without guile” are not phrases often heard, there’s usually a stratagem behind everything you see or don’t see. When I mentioned the first former Speaker’s take on the action to the second former Speaker, that someone may have prompted Dukes’ aides to go public, he said, “I think that’s probably right.” This is the House not a Boy Scout troop and there’s a lot going on, most of it behind the scenes, and what gets revealed gets revealed for a reason. Also, as both former Speakers said, much of what happens in the Legislature involves personalities, grievances and grudges—likes and dislikes—this is a very human institution. We’re used to thinking that a particular no vote by a legislator, for instance, is related to the needs of that member’s district, or even a lobbyist’s influence, but a commonly-mentioned dynamic that is often overlooked is that Representative A just doesn’t like Representative B’s face, or Representative A got screwed on a deal last legislative session or the session before and is returning the favor now. People may wait years for the opportunity for revenge. Asked what might be the circumstances for seeking revenge, the first former Speaker mentioned specifically playing with the other team, which is what Dukes did as a Craddick supporter. As to the issue of the possible motivations of her aides, and the possibility that they were coached, there’s evidence, purely circumstantial but particularly powerful, that points to other House members, specifically Democrats, and more specifically, members of her own delegation.
            One of the former Speakers describing the two political parties in the state today said that the Republicans are like the once-dominant Texas Democrats used to be, a large party full of differing factions, the rightwing Freedom Caucus for example, the moderates, the old-style patricians like the Bushes, whoever. The Democrats on the other hand, he said, are much more cohesive and on message, as minority parties need to be and as Republicans used to be. Anyone breaking with the Democratic program or who is not toeing a party line in Texas is often held to account, as the Wall Street Journal also said recently. The Journal was describing what it called Texas’ propensity for political trials, examples being Gov. Perry, former Senator Kaye Bailey Hutchison and former Majority Leader Tom DeLay, all of whom are former House members and all of whom were busted by the Travis County Grand Jury, although the Journal was specifically referring to the upcoming trial of Attorney General Ken Paxton (“another dubious case against a politician who riled the status quo”) who is a former House member too and whose case is not in Travis County but did start here. That also describes Dukes’ career, she broke ranks for a time, which is especially offensive in Travis County which sees itself at odds with and victim of the rest of the Republican-controlled state. So, that’s two counts against her. There’s yet another reason to believe some of her colleagues may have been involved in her misfortune and that comes from the D.A.’s Office itself.
            The head of the D.A’s Public Integrity Unit under Rosemary Lehmberg when it first took up its pursuit of Dawnna Dukes was a lawyer named Susan Oswalt, who was let go by Margaret Moore when Moore took over the office. It was Oswalt who helped develop the threat strategy that was first used against Dukes, resign or be indicted. In a speech to the Travis County Rotary Club before the Dukes case even unfolded, Oswalt made a presentation about legislators pursued by the D.A., using as an example Latino state rep Kino Flores who had just run afoul of the Public Integrity Unit. Oswalt told her audience that most of the indictments involving state legislators begin as complaints from other state legislators, in one way or another, for whatever reason—one representative ratting out another, for political or personal motives—which, surprise, is what the former Speakers said too. There’s long been a rumor that Flores, another Democrat who worked with the Craddick-led Republicans—“a Craddick D,” as they were called, like Ron Wilson and like Dukes—as he entered the grand jury room, to defend himself, saw a member of his own party leadership going out the other door after testifying. So, let's see: we have three minorities, two blacks and one Hispanic, each worked with the Republicans led by Tom Craddick, and all three have been pursued by the Travis County Grand Jury. The only other state legislator whom we know was investigated by the Travis County D.A. during the same era is Craddick himself, a probe that went nowhere but did tie up Craddock defending himself and force him to spend a lot of money on lawyers. The Travis County Grand Jury investigates only Republicans, and Democrats who have worked with Republicans. Sheryl Cole's $140,000 in unspecified "lobbying services" to the Travis County Central Health District is 150 times more than what Dukes is alleged to have cost the state but will never be investigated because Cole is a tame Negro, for Democratic purposes. Sen. Kirk Watson is a walking ethics violation, a legislator who practically has a "For Sale" sign on his forehead, but will never see the inside of the grand jury room because he's a good Democrat, too. In the cases of each of the black and Hispanic D's mentioned above it's important to note they were denounced by their own party, which does not happen to someone like Watson because he runs the local Democratic Party. If that analysis is correct, the pool of suspects this time around, with Dawnna Dukes, narrows pretty quickly.
            The members of Dukes’ own delegation had the motive and the opportunity and have shown a hostility to her from the outset of her troubles including, but not limited to, supporting her opponents and not inviting her to delegation events. The attacks began when she was weak, after her car accident, which is a sign of the kind of timing you see at the Legislature: Dukes after her car crash was a more vulnerable opponent than Dukes before the crash. So, there are half a dozen suspects here, present and former members, but straight off we can eliminate Rep. Paul Workman who represents western Travis County because he’s a Republican and has little influence in the courthouse. So, too, Workman has been described in the press—unlike Dukes’ Democratic colleagues—as being sympathetic to her plight, in a gentlemanly, non-partisan way. We can also eliminate Gina Hinojosa who is new to the delegation and has been described as being “surprised” by her colleagues’ vehemence regarding the African-American legislator. Elliot Naishtat the longterm rep whom Hinojosa replaced this year did not have a great relationship with Dukes and has been critical of her privately since leaving office, but he’s out of the hunt now and wasn’t around for the most recent attacks. That leaves three members, good Democrats, all: Eddie Rodriguez, who represents southeast Travis County, Donna Howard who is rep for northwest Austin, and Celia Israel who represents an arcing swath of local population. On second thought, one other former representative might also seem to be a possibility.
            Glen Maxey was a member of the delegation with Dukes and Maxey is now head of legislative affairs for the state Democratic Party. Maxey was the first openly gay Texas state rep which is, frankly, historic, and that makes him the very important leader of a major caucus in the Democratic Party and especially in Austin. One of Dukes’ few primary challengers in recent years was a gay attorney who claimed Dukes was out of touch with gay issues, an odd claim since she is credited with one of the most important speeches on the House floor against anti-LGBTQ legislation, and she is graded “A” by Equality Texas which tracks legislators in this regard. Still, the claim is floating out there in the ether, that Dukes has gotten on the wrong side of the gay caucus, which would be deadly for her career in Travis County and, specifically, that she’s out of favor with Maxey which could be even deadlier. In an email response to a query, former Rep. Maxey denied this. “Your premise is 100% wrong. I've never gone after Dawnna. She's no more on my ‘wrong side’ than any other person concerned about her representation of her district.” Which is a shot at her, “like anyone else concerned about her representation,” and can be viewed as dissatisfaction with her, nonethless. Upon further questioning he continued, “I have had absolutely ZERO conversations with anyone involved with Dukes issues. Nada. None. Zip. Anyone saying otherwise is making shit up. Dawnna and I have been friends when we served together. I spoke to her just recently at the Capitol. We have no ill will. So anyone suggesting otherwise is just a liar.” On the other hand Eddie Rodriguez who was Maxey’s aide before taking over Maxey’s seat was caught speaking in favor of Dukes’ opponent in the previously-mentioned primary, something that is just not supposed to be done. But as regards the more recent efforts to bust Dukes, Rodriguez seems, frankly, neither that bright nor that calculating.
            There may be another dynamic entirely at work here, jealousy. I may not be able to spot drug use with 100% certainty but I do like to think I know something about women—not in my own life, where I remain lost in the wilderness—but in female-female interactions. Working for the last 20 years at a nurses station, with 90% women, I’ve gotten familiar with conflict among women, which is very rarely face to face but can still be just as brutal and bloody as men squaring off in the parking lot. The whole “Dukes Affair” looks a lot like women at work. Rep. Howard has clashed with minorities in the past (and is, coincidently, a nurse by training) but I’ve met her and—this is completely subjective—she doesn’t have the vibe to single out a black woman and go toe to toe, which would take major cojones from your average white chick. But, to quote detectives, Celia Israel looks good for it. And there are a couple of reasons for suspecting her.
            One is that while all three (Rodriguez, Howard and Israel) were found in the room with the body, so to speak, Israel had access to the weapon. She’s been writing a series of columns on life at the Legislature for the American-Statesman and my request to see her email with the newspaper led to her response that she didn’t have any, with the sole exception of messages between herself and her editor about what she’s writing. What is the likelihood she’s never been asked by the Statesman or never exchanged email about the single most contentious issue in the local Democratic Party for most of the last two years? Or that she discarded important correspondence while keeping routine messages about turning in an article? Two is that the campaign manager for Sheryl Cole, who has been selected by white elites to succeed Dukes, is a former Israel assistant who is called “Celia’s guy” in the local party apparatus. (Continuing our “small world” analogy, Cole’s campaign treasurer is an Eastside lawyer-turned-pastor who was first hired as a law clerk and then as a prosecutor by Margaret Moore when she was County Attorney.) Three is that Rep. Israel's name is being openly used as a sponsor for Cole. Four is that Celia doesn’t deny any of the above.

           One of the cool things about the Capitol if you’re looking for someone is you can always find him or her. Only the governor, lieutenant governor and speaker are out of reach, because of big offices or apartments or separate entrances. Everybody else walks the halls to get from Point A to Point B which may be committee rooms or the House/Senate floors or their own offices. So, one afternoon in the waning days of the most recent special session, I staked out a hallway that Celia Israel would have to pass through to reach her office and I was rewarded shortly thereafter with her appearance. She looked to be coming back from the House floor, with an aide at her side. In an exchange of messages after informing me that she had no email with the newspaper—she had not replied to a request for an interview. Time to track down the representative, personally.
            At the outset, let me mention in a purely personal vein, I have a thing for Latinas, especially lawmakers. My last crush was Marissa Marquez of El Paso who represented District 77 for four terms but called it quits last year. There was just something about the way Marissa orated (“Mr. Speaker!”) and I got some of the same vibe from Celia, although she plays for the other team, personally, and politically as a gay leader, so I knew my interest would be, you know, unrequited. She’s an attractive woman—and a strong one—you could see that right off, in the same way Dawnna radiates a certain ability so does Celia. Frankly, Celia also looked like a predator, but it was harder for me to distinguish what kind. Luckily we had never met so when I rose from my bench in a hallway of the Capitol Extension to approach her she didn’t know to run. “I’m Lucius Lomax,” I said and we shook hands. Her aide didn’t look happy at the prospect of an unscripted interaction, but Celia smiled.
            I went straight on the attack and said I believed she was responsible for the effort to take her colleague down. Rep. Israel didn’t respond directly, what she said instead was, “I’ve known Dawnna over the course of many years. I have a lot of respect for her as a representative.” She also said she had “concern for Dawnna’s family,” and I thought she was going to start on the drug abuse thing, which would have been tacky, so I cut her off and re-iterated that I thought she was involved in political bullying. You know what’s interesting? There was no denial, or even a non-denial denial. More to the point there was none of the vehemence of Glen Maxey’s retort. Rep. Israel said nothing more of substance, in fact, and we parted ways, although she and her aide did suddenly swing down a corridor, away from her digs, changing direction as if they were suddenly headed towards Donna Howard’s office. Because there is another possibility: that, like in an Agatha Christie mystery, they all did it. To some degree that has to be true. Because they’re all doing it even now. A crucial piece of evidence comes directly from the floor of the House of Representatives.
            There’s a dynamic in the House that you don’t read about in the newspaper called “ghost-voting.” Ghost-voting or “buddy-voting” is a practice in which one representative votes for another. It used to be considered a bad practice, back in the day, if a rep was caught voting for another rep it was a big deal and would draw a lot of heat, especially from muckraking journalists. But today it’s accepted as normal and one representative can even sign a release granting voting rights to another member. The only time it’s not done is on really important bills or when the Speaker puts a “call on the House” and the Sergeant-at-Arms goes out to round up everyone because the Speaker wants to see everybody in his or her seat. Today, in ordinary circumstances though, said a former Speaker, you can stand in the House gallery and look down “and see 40% of the members present but 60% of them voting,” and that’s because the ones who are present are voting for those who are not. It’s completely legal. For instance Eddie Rodriguez is said to have gotten through UT law school, which he attended while serving in the Legislature, by having Rep. Naishtat, his seatmate at the time, vote for him in his absence.
            The important point here is that no one has been voting for Dukes—which means, as a practical matter, her record of absences is not really that bad compared to others’ records of attendance which are really not that good. The practice in the Travis County delegation is said to have been that the freshman, in this instance Gina Hinojosa, would vote for or show present anyone in her delegation who was not present but she has not been doing that for Dukes, apparently under pressure from her colleagues. (Hinojosa herself has refused to answer why.) A member of the Black Caucus said that Rep. Dukes has asked members of the African-American group to vote for her in her absence or when she’s late but this black rep with whom I spoke said that African-American members have refused because Dukes, who sits alone behind Hinojosa, is too close to press seating and it would be noticed if a black lawmaker walked over and voted for her. “We’ve never stepped away from her,” though, said the member of the Black Caucus, speaking of support for Dukes, but no one can afford to be sucked into Dukes’ troubles. The result is, like the indictments, she’s being singled out. Dawnna Dukes is not entirely innocent here, however. Even her friends say that a certain aspect of her character makes Dawnna her own worst enemy. You’ve heard of CPT, or “Colored People’s Time”—also known as “M.S.T.,” Mexican Standard Time? That is the alleged propensity, a completely racist sterotype, uncalled-for and unfair, describing the colored peoples of the earth arriving five minutes later for all commitments than our white brothers and sisters—but in Dawnna’s case is completely true. Dawnna is so far beyond C.P.T. it’s hard even to describe. To call her chronically late or “not prompt” doesn’t begin to describe her relationship with a clock. That’s part of the reason the D.A.’s deadline to resign was so counter-intuitive. Mostly, Dawnna doesn’t do deadlines.
            Through the years, and with a certain glee, I've watched Dukes’ inability to file campaign paperwork on time. It appeared to me, frankly, like a “behavior,” because it seemed unlikely anyone could be this clueless about filing time. Then, last year, as the Statesman was in the middle of its hatchet job, and feeling, like, nobody can be this bad—I made an appointment to meet her. I don’t drive and she agreed to pick me up in front of the downtown central library. We agreed to meet at 11 a.m., at the bus stop directly in front of the library doors. It was August 4th, hotter than hell, the sun was reaching its zenith and I was completely exposed on the sidewalk. By the time she was an hour late she’d already sent me three or four texts to tell me she was on her way. The babysitter was the issue again, and I have no real reason to believe it wasn’t true, she's a single mom—but like 12:15, 12:20, I just got on a bus and left, in order to get out of the heat. The upshot is that she’s in complete denial about timeliness. She has no idea that people see this as rudeness—that some might think, based upon her approach to time commitments, we are not important to her. Looking back, it seems to me now, the only way we met at the Capitol was that it was completely unscheduled. I texted her that I was in the Extension, stalking her colleagues to ask about her, and she called me to say she was pulling up to her parking space and we could go get lunch. If it had been a scheduled rendezvous I might be waiting still. In all respects, for me, however, Dawnna Dukes was worth the wait. Not everyone else may feel that way, though. Judge Urrutia is one. He comes from the defense bench and probably has wide experience with tardy defendants but he’s a judge now and he has made clear that a contempt citation already has her name on it, she only needs to delay the court one more time.
            What got me interested in her again, you may ask, after that hour waiting in the sun? In the Austin History Center next door to the library there’s a small Dawnna Dukes file and included is an interview from a few years ago—question and answer, like you see on the inside back flap of magazines, her saying what she had to say without editorial commentary, Dawnna Dukes unfiltered, you might call it. This was before gentrification became an issue in the city and she was way, way ahead of that particular curve. “There are new businesses where old African-American businesses once stood on East Eleventh Street,” she told Austin Monthly. “I remember this pink building that housed a record store when I was about four years old. One day, my sitter walked me to the store, and inside, dancing wildly, was James Brown. He scared me. I could not believe my eyes.” I remember that store, too. Her next comments were particularly prophetic. “When I worked for a criminal justice planning firm, I conducted research in jails and prisons,” she said in the interview. “The data showed that by the sixth grade you could determine who was heading toward the criminal justice system. I felt the state could choose to educate or incarcerate,” she said.
            “Politically, the best advice I received was from my predecessor, Wilhemina Delco,” she told the magazine, “who reminded me of the motto of the Congressional Black Caucus, ‘We have no permanent friends, no permanent enemies, just permanent issues.’” Recently, Delco was seen at a Sheryl Cole event. She told someone that it’s a shame what has happened to Dukes, the railroading—Ms. Delco has made clear she believes that Dukes has been unfairly targeted—but even if Dawnna is acquitted her career may still be over, or so said her former mentor. (Backing Cole now are also the two most important figures of White Austin leadership, Congressman Doggett and State Senator Watson.) Still, this was the woman I met for lunch, the Dawnna Dukes of the old interview: strong, proud, intelligent and fearless. It’s not just because she’s black but because she’s black and of a certain generation. I have about a decade on her but we were both raised in the civil rights era and the idea of rolling over for white people? It’s just not going to happen. But the one thing that everyone agrees on, friends and enemies alike? She needs to get a watch.
              That’s not the reason she wasn’t concerned by the passing of the district attorney’s deadline, by the way, as we were having lunch—that she didn’t know the time or that “time slipped by” or something like that. Her new cell phone was on the table in the restaurant and it has a digital display, she was merely unconcerned, let’s put it that way. The point is she needs to get into the habit of timeliness. She appears occasionally to be unaware that clocks even exist, not because she’s a junkie, as the D.A.’s Office would have you believe, she’s always been that way, time is a dimension she mostly does not move in. That will be a dangerous liability in her coming trial.
            When Speaker Gib Lewis was on trial, for accepting free travel from lobbyists, and arrived two hours late to court, District Judge Bob Perkins was not amused. My friend Gilbert Soto was Perkins’ longtime bailiff and Gilbert—recounting the scene recently for me, in preparation for Dawnna’s appearance in Judge Urrutia’s court—said succinctly, “Perkins got tired of that shit.” When Speaker Lewis finally showed up, Judge Perkins told Gilbert, “I want him taken into custody.” That was kind of cool for Gilbert, right? Like how often do you get to arrest the Speaker of the Texas House of Representatives? No handcuffs or anything, no billy club needed, Lewis is white after all—no need to spray pepper or employ the old reliable Taser—Gib Lewis didn’t resist or run for the door or try to take the D.A. hostage either, but still an enjoyable day, all in all, for the bailiff if not for the Speaker. It’s something that Dukes might do well to keep in mind. She needs to be there when the bailiff says, “All rise.”
            She also needs to win. In her car, as we sat outside the Texas Capitol, an institution where she has grown up, so to speak, the House that has been her home for the last two decades, more, that’s what she said she’s planning. She lowered her shades again and looked over.

            “I am going to win,” she said.