The wording of the order, he explains, is simply legal boilerplate. Furthermore, it applies to both husband and wife. "Believe me, none of that was happening," Diaz says. "I talked to my [ex-]wife, and she was laughing about it. That is just standard when you're going through a divorce. There is nothing to show I was abusive."
But the language in the injunction isn't that typical.
Edward M. Snyder Jr., Gloria Diaz's attorney in the divorce, won't say much about it. Nor will he let Jesse Diaz off the hook. "Those are public records, and I suppose you could say they speak for themselves," Snyder says.
Still not satisfied, I knock on the door of Gloria Diaz's home in Pleasant Grove, but she doesn't want to talk. The word "no" comes out of her mouth while the door is swinging shut.
The only public indication of her thoughts is what's posted beside her driveway: a red and white Jesse Diaz campaign sign.
You've got to extend a little sympathy to the District 4 voters. Consider how they see it. Some choice: baloney on white, or baloney on wheat.
Diaz has the support of longtime Hispanic leaders Adelfa Callejo and state Rep. Domingo Garcia, and is casting himself as the candidate who will ensure that the needs of DISD's huge Latino student body remain a priority.
That's a legitimate concern. But Diaz's inability to connect with other ethnic groups would put the board right where it is now--fractured along ethnic lines.
Victor R. Bonilla, who used to serve with Diaz on DISD's Hispanic Advisory Committee, puts it much more bluntly.
"Wasn't he the same guy talking all that trash to John Wiley Price and the black people, and now he wants their vote?" Bonilla asks. "It's like giving a dead man an enema--he's already dug his grave, now all he has to do is lie down.
"I'll be more than happy," he adds, "to send him a rosary so he get on his knees and start praying."
Then there's the baggage that Diaz carries--the pile that grows every day.
Like last Thursday afternoon. All of a sudden, the fax machine in my study creaks and groans, and out comes a copy of a $22,552.70 check Diaz has written to the IRS just that day.
He calls me moments later.
"I don't owe anybody anything now," he says proudly.
Thank you, Jesse Diaz, for that fine display of civic responsibility.
Would I vote for this guy? Only in the interests of news value. He's sure to supply many more enchanting episodes for the 10 o'clock news.
Venable, however, claims he'll make DISD so boring that TV towers will cease sprouting at district headquarters. He'll streamline the process, instill discipline, bring some order to that unruly batch of bickerers on the board.
Venable has definitely thought through his agenda. But I also get the sense, at times, that he believes in that sacred process as long as it goes his way.
He admits to me at the debate, in fact, that he's been fined $3,000 by the court for stomping out of a deposition.
Does he have any plans to pay it? I ask.
Sure, he says--then he rattles off a whole set of conditions: When so-and-so pays me this, when so-and-so forks over the bucks for that...
The real answer, of course, is no.
And I wouldn't be all that surprised if Venable turned pink-faced, gathered his papers, and tipped out of a board committee meeting muttering something goofy about "the process, the process."
But at least he's concerned about the integrity of the process. Which, in the twisted world of DISD politics, has to count for something.
