The iCongressman (14 page)

SENATOR VIANO

“Pictures don’t
lie
, Mister
Bennit! They have been authenticated as real and one hundred percent unaltered.
Yet you sit there making denial after denial. How do you respond to that?”

Michael has been in the hot seat for over an hour now, and
the hearing has grown increasingly contentious as each member gets a chance to
exact their pound of flesh. Lawyers are not allowed to badger witnesses unless
they get elected to Congress. Here, almost anything goes.

“Do you believe everything you see in pictures?” Michael
asks. He has his back to me, but I can still hear the hint of a smile in his
voice. I may no longer be a U.S. Senator, but the skills that once got me here
are as sharp as ever. I know when someone is being baited.

“No, but these pictures tell a compelling story.”

“What about video? Do you believe everything you see on
television?”

“We don’t have any video.”

“Yes, sir, but if you did?”

“I don’t like commenting on a hypothetical, but yes,
although I understand it can be altered, I generally believe what I see on
video.” Where is he going with this?

“Excellent,” Michael says as a young man gets up from his
seat along the aisle and moves to a television monitor situated along the wall.
He powers on the unit and nods to Congressman Bennit. “Then let me offer some
evidence of my own. I took the liberty of fast-forwarding to the good part, but
we have the whole thing for anyone who is interested.”

The committee almost unanimously leans forward with their
heads cocked to the side to stare at the images playing before them. When the
part of the lobbyist pulling the envelope out comes up on the screen, it
freezes. Visible behind them is a man taking still shots with a camera under a
napkin.

“A little background before we continue. Previous testimony
submitted to this committee alleges that it was a concerned citizen taking
pictures with a cell phone of what he thought was something shady. Ironically,
that information was vetted and certified as fact during the investigation.”
Michael looks back at the video
theatrically,
and then
back at the committee in mock confusion. “I admit, I don’t work at the Apple
Store’s Genius Bar, but does that look like an
iPhone
to anyone in this room? No, I’m pretty sure it’s a Nikon
dSLR
.”

The video continues, showing the events at the restaurant as
they really transpired. The room gasps when he throws the envelope back at the
lobbyist. After
Mashburn
tucks it into his pocket,
the video focuses on the individual working the camera before freezing again.

“The concerned citizen in question, widely reported to be
from Danbury, is one Logan Tyler, a twenty-three-year-old resident of Chevy
Chase, Maryland, and employee of the lobby firm Ibram & Reed.” I pause to
let the muffled grumbles in the room subside before continuing. “Trust me when
I say it was pretty tough to track that bit of information down. Hit play
again, Brian. Oh, by the way, this is Brian
Carlite
,
a former student of mine and the man who recorded this … interaction.”

He gives an awkward wave to the room. Damn, that’s who that
is. He wasn’t sitting next to the rest of Michael’s staff, so I never could
make the connection.

Bennit must have figured out he was being framed for
something and smartly arranged to record the whole sordid thing in high-definition.
He was even patient enough to let this play out to ensure the media were here
to witness the treachery. As the video rolls, it is now apparent to everyone in
the room with an ounce of common sense that Michael was set up.

“In case anyone is curious,” Michael says as a voice over,
“the reservation for the cameraman was made immediately following mine. The
hostess was slipped a hundred-dollar bill when he arrived at the restaurant to
seat him at this particular table. I have her name, her sworn statement, and
even the serial number of the C-note she was given. Amazing how the thorough
investigation you guys conducted wasn’t able to uncover that.”

James is not going to be happy when he hears about all this.
He may be a brilliant schemer, but he just got sniffed out and played by a guy
he probably didn’t think was capable of doing his laundry. It is dawning on me
that I may have underestimated him myself.

The video clicks off and the chairman confers with one of
his staffers. Most likely, he is receiving instructions from the Speaker or the
minority leader.

“Thank you for that spirited defense, Mister Bennit.
However, despite the compelling nature of the video footage, I feel that it’s
best to let the whole House decide your fate. I think the motion to recommend
your expulsion should be approved by this committee and sent to the Floor.”

So much for common sense.
Welcome
to the U.S. House of Representatives. I’m not upset about it, but things are
not going as predicted. That in itself poses a major problem for me. A slam
dunk reason for expulsion is morphing into the biggest sham in American
political history right before my eyes.

MICHAEL

“Why am I not surprised you would reach that conclusion,
Mister Chairman?” I ask without bothering to hide the disdain in my voice. My
staff was equally divided over whether the video would be enough to dismiss the
charges. Chelsea somehow knew they would stay the course, and she was right.

“What are you implying?”

“Only that in the face of overwhelming evidence to the
contrary, you have reached the conclusion I’m guilty and recommend an
undeserved punishment to curry favor with the leadership.”

“I resent that assertion!” the chairman barks into his
microphone. Yeah, truth always hurts, doesn’t it?

“Thomas Jefferson once said, ‘
Experience hath
shewn
, that even
under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time,
and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny.
’”

“Mister Bennit, I will not stand idly by while you demean
this panel!”

“Then stop giving myself, and every other American, just
cause to do precisely that! I cannot make more of a mockery of these proceedings
than you already have, Mister Chairman. Is this really what …
”

I see him make a slashing signal across his neck and I stop
talking when I notice my microphone is no longer on.

“Mister Bennit, we have warned you that you are here to
testify about your actions, not pander to the cameras in the room by impugning
the members of this committee. If you are not capable of restraining your
speech, we reserve the right not to let you talk at all.”

Okay, I have played this game long enough.
DaVinci
was dead-on when he noted, “Nothing strengthens
authority
so
much as silence.” I have been silent for
over a year, and I think my time for quiet assent needs to end. If social media
fodder is what Chelsea wants, by God that’s what she’s going to get. I’m sure
C-SPAN will like this, too.

“Well, since I don’t need this microphone anymore …”

I rise out of my chair and grab the bottom edge of the long,
rectangular wooden table I’m seated at. It’s heavier than I thought, and I’m
thankful that one benefit of having no influence is the extra time I can spend
at the House gym. With all the strength I can summon, I flip the table
violently up into the air. Papers I had on it go flying, as does the microphone
they switched off on me. The large table crashes to the ground in a deafening
roar, causing everyone on the committee to recoil right out of their chairs.

The looks on their faces are priceless in light of my
aggressive reaction. Fear, anger, surprise, and contempt sum up the majority of
what I see. The method may be unorthodox, and maybe even extreme, but it has
the desired effect. For once, people who love to hear themselves speak are
mired in a blissful silence.

“Do I have all your attention now, ladies and gentlemen?
Good, because today’s lesson will only be given once,” I announce, now
channeling my time in the classroom. The area between where my table was once
set up and the semi-circle where my jury now sits reminds me of my classroom.

“You’re out of order, Mister Bennit, and I will have you
removed from this hearing!” the chairman yells into his microphone, now
standing and leaning forward after finally recomposing himself.

“Stow your threats, Mister Chairman. My first day of basic
training was the first time I had short hair, the first time I wore shiny
boots, and the
last
time I feared
anything
. So sit your ass down in that
chair and listen for a change, because what I’m about to say is important.”

“I ... uh … this is―”

“Mister Chairman, Low-T isn’t an excuse for either lack of
hearing or the inability to follow simple instructions. Now maintain bottom to
top lip contact before I beat you with that microphone and then jam it down
your throat until you stop twitching.”

There is a collective gasp at the ferocity of my comment. I
expect the chairman to protest further, but he doesn’t. I’m not sure if it’s
out of fear or a genuine curiosity about what I’m going to say. Either way, I
have the floor and need to give the most important speech of my life.

“Why are we here today? If this committee was going to
discipline me regardless of the evidence presented, why are we wasting taxpayer
money on this circus?” I ask to the members of the committee before me.
“Outside those doors are over three hundred million Americans counting on us.
We
are the
people the citizens of this country call on to be their voice and solve their
problems. Yet, most of the laws this body passes aren’t worthy for Americans to
write out on a Post-It note and take a dump on.

“Our citizens are the people we
work for.
They
are the ones
living life up close, personal, and in the trenches. They’re
taking on all the challenges of pursuing the American dream in close quarters
combat. And what support do they get from their government?
From
this body?
None.”

I hazard a look at the press in the
back of the room. Although this speech is going to be seen, heard, and
discussed on every imaginable media outlet and social media site, I am careful
not to appear to be playing to the cameras. The correspondents, who moments ago
looked like they were collectively ready for their naps, are now paying rapt
attention as if this were the story of the century.

“And no, I don’t mean reaching into
the pockets of others to support giving them a check and a pat on the head. I
mean real support and an optimism that tomorrow is going to be better for them
than today is. To make their lives easier and their families more secure
through sound policy and competent administration.

“Life is hard, and when they get
knocked down, it should be us inspiring them to get back up each … and … every
… time. We need to set the example of perseverance, endurance, tenacity, and a
singular drive to ‘get it done’ in the face of any challenge or obstacle.”

I move the length of the tiered
wooden bench where the committee is seated. Only a few bother to make eye
contact with me. Only now, even after more than a year here, do I realize just
how much control is exerted on them. These people serve many masters, and their
constituents aren’t one of them.

“This Congress doesn’t do that.
We are the laughing stock across the world because we
stand on the steps
and sing patriotic songs when enemies attack our country. We allow our spy
agencies to target our friends and own citizens. We let political enemies be
harassed by agencies because of petty vendettas. Our foreign policy is not the
stuff of a world superpower, but of a schoolyard bully.

“Sure, you get the partisan outrage from Capitol Hill, but
no solutions. The Affordable Care Act, stimulus plans, immigration reform, Bush
tax cuts—we wax poetic about these issues in front of the cameras and then are
content to use them against each other. No law is perfect, but instead of even
attempting to make them work for the public, we use them as political grist for
the media while we sit on our asses, secure in the notion that Americans are
too consumed with their own struggles to care.

“That’s not legislating, it’s cowardice. It’s a failure to
lead, and this branch of government needs to lead. It needs to step out of the
shadow of the divisive presidents we’ve had over the past three decades and
show Americans what can be done when we debate, discuss, and compromise on
issues. We need to restore American faith that we are here to make their lives
easier and more prosperous, and for no other reason. Instead, we have this,” I
say, theatrically gesturing around the meeting room that is dead silent.

I have said what I needed to say. I could go on, but a good
soldier knows when it’s time for a tactical retreat. I take a few steps toward
the center aisle to signal my rant is nearly complete. I stop and look back to
the pensive faces of the committee members who only moments ago wanted me drawn
and quartered.

“
A warrior is someone who stands
between the enemy and those he holds sacred. There are others out there like me
who
are
willing to do the same. I will proudly stand
with them between you and the millions of Americans who think this Congress,
and this government, has lost its way.
If you are so blinded by your party
allegiance that you think I should be expelled from this body, so be it. Send
this resolution to the Floor for all of America to see.”

With that final volley, I walk up the center aisle towards
the set of doors in back of the room. I feel every set of eyes and camera lens
in the room following me. If my mission was to make an impression, it’s safe to
call it a resounding success. If it was to get kicked out of Congress, well, I
probably made that happen too.

Even if the original charges are dismissed, a resolution to
expel me for my antics here will go to House floor. I am sure every single
person in the room feels the same way as they watch me leave without saying a
single word.