Friday, Oct. 10, 2003 | 5:40 a.m.
The Wendell Williams affair continues to metastasize, raising more questions as it spreads, including about a university system that condones muzzling employees and a city government that either approves of falsifying time cards or actually orders the forgeries.
The lesson of Watergate still resonates three decades later: It's the cover-up, stupid. And as the week climaxed with a sensational and sensationalized story about the FBI looking into allegations of strong-arm tactics by lobbyists during the legislative tax fight, suddenly private business as usual is public business as scandal.
These developments come against the backdrop of a public corruption probe that at its heart is about when legalized incest -- cozy relationships that result in friendly decisions and elective ambitions fulfilled -- becomes illegal incest -- cozy relationships that result in money for votes, houses and other perks.
Never have I seen so many people concurrently running for cover as the self-immolating Williams ignites fires at the community college and the city that have officials scurrying like scalded dogs. And the wispy lobbyists-using-threats inquiry (I'm shocked, shocked to hear that this has occurred) has lawmakers turning on each other and the paid advocate community wondering how far is too far (no word yet on whether the feds also are sniffing into heavy-handed legislators trying to intimidate lobbyists, not that that ever occurs).
The legal question surrounding this unfortunate confluence of events is whether any crimes were committed, beyond the ones already pleaded to in Operation G-Sting. But the political and substantive conundrums raised this week could have even murkier resolutions. To wit:
Williams. He can blame everyone for drawing conclusions about his behavior. But until he shows some signs of repentance -- sorry seems to be the hardest word for politicians -- he has no chance to survive, even in a friendly district. No one will believe that his version of events exculpates him in every controversy. It's too much. And his threats to expose wrongdoing that he knows about in the college or anywhere else give rise to yet another question: As a public official, if he knew of unethical or criminal acts, didn't he have a responsibility to report them before he needed to deflect attention?
Community College. From Chancellor Jane Nichols to President Ron Remington to the regents, the conspiracy of silence sends a loud and clear message. Nichols and Remington want everyone to shut up and for good reason: Once light is shined on the hiring practices at the college, some might take more than a cursory look at how two legislators, one singularly unqualified (Mark Manendo) and one who has much political savvy (Chris Giunchigliani) came to be hired.
So, too, will Nichols and Remington have to explain why they looked the other way as this was occurring and now have ordered employees not to talk to the media. As the bureaucrats and functionaries rush to protect themselves, any attempt to chill free speech rights inside the institution will only make the Fourth Estate more ravenous.
City. The folks on Stewart Avenue have been scrambling since it was exposed that they let Williams continue to draw a paycheck -- public employees in Carson City regularly take leaves without pay. Although they questioned his hours in March, the city higher-ups only reacted after the session when the controversy erupted. That's when they say they investigated and told Williams he had to return about $7,000. He says city officials told him to do it only so everyone could save face. That worked well.
Manager Doug Selby also has used the Nichols' line from the Guidebook on Damage Control by saying he doesn't want this tried in the press. Too late.
Sooner or later, the elected officials and the managers will have to explain why an employee who used his cell phone for $1,800 in personal calls and who they have publicly said overcharged the city for hours worked is still employed -- or explain what kind of offense can get a city worker fired.
Lobbyists and the Legislature. There's no evidence and no real investigation, according to the feds. But just mention the FBI and public corruption these days and the media are orgasmic. State Sen. Mark Amodei's disclosure that he was interviewed by the FBI about possible intimidation by lobbyists -- even though he says he has no first-hand knowledge and just repeated rumors to the feds -- nevertheless has sent a shiver through the political world. Some of his colleagues and others believe Amodei helped gin up the inquiry and he certainly seemed to think such a probe would be a high colonic for a polluted system.
But the real issue here is whether a crime was committed. Yes, Capital Beverages had contracts canceled by gaming companies and owner Kurt Brown's tax stance surely played a role. Yes, Station Casinos representatives were furious at Assemblyman Chad Christensen's tax recalcitrance and let him know about it. And, yes, lobbyists sometimes are heavy-handed and arrogant, just like some lawmakers. But where's the crime?
That's a question that now lurks behind Williams, the community college, the city and, yes, those public officials who said injudicious things on those federal wiretaps about their commitment to strip clubs.
All of them have made their bed, mostly with each other. I doubt, though, that many of them are getting much sleep these days.
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