Capitol Rookie, part 6: The Corrupt Web Behind Senator Florez’s Fundraiser
A journalist’s search for truth uncovers hidden loyalties, suppressed stories, and a tangled web of power, deception, and family ties. But is he asking the right questions—or walking into a trap.
Capitol Rookie is an 11-part crime fiction noir set in 2004 in Sacramento, California.
By Vince Wetzel
I looked at the friend I once respected and contemptuously shook my head. Doug Davis, the city editor for the Fresno xxx, was married to my informant Anna, as I had discovered only a moment before when I noticed her in a flowy white wedding gown on the shelf behind him. He practically admitted he had suppressed stories on the Valley Healthcare Foundation, Senator Florez, and Jaime Villalobos. Did he do it for his wife? What was this all about?
“I have to protect my family,” Doug pleaded. “And the paper. If we break the story, I’m accused of abusing my position. But if you do it, you can protect Anna, and the Senator gets taken down.”
“And why not go to your editors yourself?” I asked. “Let them build a firewall.”
“There are too many Florez loyalists,” Doug said, looking around the office, though there weren’t any windows. “I can’t risk her finding out it’s Anna until the story is out.”
“What about the FBI?”
With each shake of his head, the esteem in which I held Doug dropped. We had taken ethics in the mass media. Over beers at Warehouse Pizza, we’d debated what to do if put in difficult situations. That Doug was not the one sitting across his desk from me.
“I have to protect Anna, and you’re my friend,” he said. “You’d protect her in your story. You’d write it and set the narrative we could work with to keep her safe.”
I was done talking to a man for which I had collegial respect. I needed to get back to my job and pursue the truth. It wasn’t my job to keep folks safe. My job was to bring shadow politics to light and broaden transparency in the community. The phone rang next to his computer. As he turned to see who it was, I managed to pull the birth certificate from the file without him noticing. If he wasn’t going to do his job, then I was.
“Doug, I’m going after this story. I’ll protect her as an informant, but that’s it,” I said. “And I’d be concerned about more than her reputation. Her name is on those articles of incorporation, too.”
I stormed out, unsure if I’d ever talk to Doug again. I didn’t know if I was more disappointed by him, the situation, or the story beginning to unravel before me. Even though I had been a professional journalist for more than five years, maybe I was naïve about the compromises newspapers had to make in the world.
When I got to my car, I pulled the Jaime Villalobos birth certificate out of my pocket. Taking a closer look, I hoped the certificate would list a formal name, confirming that it was James or Jaime. But it did not, and I’d have to go on Doug’s word and ask Florez at her fundraiser tonight, which was my next stop. Would Jaime also be there? I had several questions for Senator Florez and stumbled into a perfect scenario.
While Senator Florez was “hosting” the fundraiser, I understood this expansive ranch home was not her residence. It must be a friend, a fellow donor, or something else. The property was at least three acres in Clovis, miles from the Senator’s district. Half of the acreage was at the front of the house, with a driveway that led up to a hill to the house.
I didn’t deal with the valet, opting to park at the base of the hill and walk. I didn’t know if that was a dead giveaway that I didn’t belong, but I knew pulling up in my Altima would for sure. I snuck in as low-key as I could. Senator Florez might see me and have me removed. Still, I might be getting a couple of questions before being removed.
I was confident in my stride, and I walked past the suspicious valet and through the entryway to the check-in table. With every step past, I gained confidence. Maybe I could pull this off.
“Name?” asked the teenager at the table with a page of names. Only a few were marked. I was one of the first attendees.
“Alex Shelby,” I said. “I don’t think my company paid. Can we bill them after the fact?”
“Ummm, I don’t know,” the girl, Kristi, with hearts above the Is according to her nametag, said. “I think I’ll have to check.”
“Don’t worry about it. This happens all the time,” I said. “Let me put the address down for you.”
“OK, I guess,” Kristi said. She kept looking around for someone to ask. I was happy for the large floorplan. Nobody she could ask was close, and no one who cared gave her a second look. She handed me the paper. Again, I was transparent. I put my name and the Tribune's address. I forgot to put “Sacramento Tribune” on the appropriate line.
Before she could examine the form, I moved past her and deeper into the house. In the hallway, I had to sidestep a large man with a bald head dressed in monochromatic black that screamed security guard. On the right, staff dressed in white button-down shirts with black ties, black aprons, and pants was stationed with a tub of beer and bottles of wine on the table. Two more were beginning to walk through with silver serving dishes adorned with shrimp, chicken skewers, and stuffed mushrooms. If I managed to avoid getting kicked out, I might get a meal out of this event. Sure, my ethics professor would disapprove, but I was hungry, and the shrimp looked too good. One wouldn’t be an ethical lapse. I stole two.
My hopes were confirmed. The shrimp was seasoned with a lime rub. I popped one in my mouth before being tapped on the shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing here?” said a voice. I turned around and there was Anna.
“Didn’t your husband tell you?” I asked. “And if you didn’t want me to come, then why did you tell me about Senator Florez in the first place?”
“I haven’t had a chance to check my voicemails,” she said. I expected her to own it or lie to my face with a tell so big I could drive a truck through it. But her face was red. Her surprise was genuine. “And you were just supposed to ask the Senator about her connection. You weren’t supposed to come to Fresno.”
“Why not? Are you hiding something? Are you hiding the Senator’s matronly relationship with Villalobos?”
Anna’s eyes narrowed, but she looked puzzled and didn’t know what I was talking about. But she couldn’t pull the wool over my eyes. I wasn’t going to be fooled again.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” I said, my voice thin. I tried to not let my frustration show, but I saw the large man in a dark black suit eyeing me. “Your husband, yes, your husband Doug, showed me the adoption papers. Villalobos is her son and head of the Valley Lobos gang. So that’s the little ‘thread’ you wanted me to pull?”
Though she was still angry, a wave of realization crossed her face. Beyond her, the security guard recognized the tension and slowly moved toward us. I looked to my right and watched Senator Florez saunter in, her hair in a bob so sprayed in place that she could protect herself from a point block shot to the head.
I ignored Anna and turned to move toward the Senator. I only had a few moments before the man in black grabbed me and pulled me outside. As I reached the Senator, her eyes fell on me. Her plastic smile was full, trying to search her brain to recognize who I was. When she looked past me and saw Anna, her eyes first widened. Anna would help her. But I bet she saw the panic in Anna’s face, followed by the security guard, and her face became concerned.
“Senator Florez, Alex Shelby, Sacramento Tribune,” I said, pushing forward and pulling out my tape recorder. “I want to talk about the Valley Health Foundation. Why is your name listed as a board member for the foundation non-profit? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
For a moment, the Senator was flushed. I had taken her by surprise. But just as quickly as she was stunned, she regained her composure. It helped that Anna and the security guard had reached me. His hand, as large as a goalkeeper's glove, was on my shoulder, directing me out of the home. His name badge read Santino.
“Mr. Shelby,” the Senator said with a smile. With Santino guiding me out, she didn’t need to hide her smugness. “The Valley Health Foundation is a critical organization dedicated to helping people manage their health. Part of that is exercising their First Amendment right to advocate for those policies. There is no conflict of interest.”
“So, you don’t deny it?” I asked. “What about the fact that another board member is your estranged son Jaime Villalobos, a convicted drug dealer and leader of the Valley Lobos gang.”
Senator Florez’s smile disappeared. Clearly, I surprised her. Santino now had his hands on me and was pushing me. I broke away from him and turned to face her down. I needed an answer to my question. Her denial or affirmation of her relationship with Jaime would be all I needed to dig deeper for the story and get my front-page story. Again, her smile returned, more arrogant and dismissive than before.
“Mr. Shelby, if you did your research, you’d know I gave up my son for adoption,” she said. “That child, whoever he is, is the half-brother of Jaime Villalobos. Jaime was my teenage sweetheart Juan’s first son before he was tragically killed. I’d check your sources and research before you try to make a name for yourself as a reporter. If you’ll excuse me, this is a private event, and I’ll ask you to leave.”
I stood there, my moment of triumph deflated faster than a popped beach ball. I didn’t resist as Santino pushed, more like shoved, me back through the hallway, past the teenager, and out the door.
“Sir, please leave these premises before I call the authorities,” Santino said. I acquiesced. I was shocked. How did I get things wrong?
Be sure to read the next installment July 4!
Side of Mustard
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