The iCongressman, page 14
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
Congressman Reyes gets another round of congratulations from the committee members, and his testimony completed, leaves the table and walks up the aisle. I glare at him as he walks past me, refusing to make eye contact. I can’t let this go. I have been boiling with emotion all morning, and now I’ve reached my breaking point.
“I’ll be right back. Stay here,” I tell Vince as I slide out of my seat and follow the congressman from Texas down the aisle. I hear Vince and Vanessa come up from behind me, and I give them a nasty look over my shoulder.
“What? You think we’d miss this?”
“What the hell was that, Congressman?” I shout as I catch up to my quarry in the hallway outside of the meeting room.
“Excuse me?” he says, startled.
“You heard me! You came to us crying about how all politicians are liars. Congratulations, it only took you a couple of months to become one of them.”
Congressman Reyes looks around at the small crowd beginning to gather. Drawn to the commotion, staffers and media begin to circle. You can count on someone recording this.
“I did what I felt I had to do,” he explains, measuring his words carefully.
“Leave him alone, Chelsea,” Congressman Bennit says as he weaves through the crowd to get to us. “Please accept my apologies, Congressman. My chief of staff is a little emotional and got caught up in the moment.” Reyes nods, and then walks off, causing the gaggle to begin to disperse.
“What are you doing?” I ask my mentor. “Do you know what he said about you in there?”
“I can only imagine, but confronting him publically isn’t going to fix anything. Let’s focus on what I need to do in there.”
I am at a loss. Where is the Mister Bennit that would have channeled his Special Forces training and ripped the soul out of this traitor’s body? Why is he being so passive in the face of treachery?
“You can’t let this go!”
“Chelsea! They got to him,” the congressman snaps. I’ve never seen him react like this. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Life sucks, and sometimes when you place your trust in someone, they turn on you. We have to get past it. The damage is done. All we can do is move on like we planned and hope for the best.”
“They are calling for you, Congressman,” Vanessa says from behind me.
“Congressman, the plan won’t work anymore,” I argue, grabbing his arm as he attempts to pass me. “If you are ever going to listen to me, it has to be now. The footage won’t be enough. Not anymore. You need to take the filter off and stomp them. Do something every person in this country will crash YouTube’s servers trying to watch.”
“Like what?”
“Like the most epic, impassioned, blood-thirsty rant you can muster to splash on every Facebook page in the country. You need to be the Army NCO who pisses napalm and has a degree in Murphy’s Law. Show this country what being a leader means, and be as obnoxious as possible in doing it. You need a performance so good even ESPN will show highlights of it.”
“That’s your advice, Chels?”
“You hired me to advise you, and that’s my advice, take it or leave it. If we’re going down, then our foxhole better be full of spent brass and grenade pins when we do.”
“Nice speech,” the congressman says with a beaming smile. “You have been hanging around me way too long. Your dad would be proud.”
Vince and Vanessa are smirking at my little tirade. They may think it’s funny, but I’m dead serious. I can’t go on like this, and if our days here are numbered, I want to make it worthwhile.
“Are you going to listen to me or not?” I ask with way too much attitude.
“Don’t get your red hair tied in a knot. You had me at ‘blood-thirsty rant.’” I smile for the first time since our meeting at Briar Point. “If spent brass and grenade pins are what you want, you’re gonna want to watch this.”
-TWENTY-EIGHT-
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.
-TWENTY-NINE-
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.
-THIRTY-
CHELSEA
“Congressman Bennit, you’re now being called the ‘iCongressman’ because of all the social media attention you’re getting following the ethics hearing. Can you comment?”
“There’s nothing really to comment on. I should have stayed more engaged with social media from the day I got here. That was my mistake. Had I done that, I would have been called the iCongressman all along.” If he had listened to me from the beginning, he would have been.
