By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
If you read the fake-drug report, you'll get the picture. The fact that nobody's in charge and nobody's accountable at City Hall doesn't stop at City Hall. It trickles down. It's a culture.
Terence Hart and Lena Levario, the lawyers who conducted the investigation for the city and wrote the report, did a great job. It's the kind of depressing reading I really enjoy. On vacation this summer, everybody else was reading The Kite Runner. I was reading The 9/11 Commission Report. I was the one on the edge of my folding chair to see how it came out.
Let me summarize the fake-drug report. It's a thorough examination of how and why the Dallas Police Department in 2001 continued to make phony drug cases on innocent defendants long after it knew that someone was planting fake evidence. Who was responsible?
The people supposedly in charge of narcotics said they kinda didn't really know, but they sorta did. They sorta told their bosses but not really. They didn't exactly count the money or test the drugs, but they meant to. The former police chief and his ridiculous entourage of six dozen ornately uniformed deputy associate partial police chiefs talked about it at a Christmas party (this really happened). But then they kinda didn't do too much to stop it. But it's not like they did anything. They really just sorta didn't do anything. So, you know: What're you gonna do?
I asked Hart why there was no mention in the report of the city manager, who is supposed to be the police chief's boss and run the city. In particular, why was there no mention of Assistant City Manager Charles Daniels, who was directly responsible for all of this? Hart basically said he and Levario had to draw the line somewhere and focused on police personnel only.
I do understand. Look, it's a great report. If the weather were better, I'd take it to the beach. There's more than enough there to make the point: City government in Dallas is a big fat dolt of an entity, armed with guns and eminent domain and zoning and all kinds of ways to make mischief in our lives. And who's running it?
That's dangerous. It's not an abstract issue. Ask the innocent people who got put in jail.
Let me ask you another question. How is Dallas for you? As a place to live? To do whatever you do? For me, for most people I know, Dallas is good. It's not Boston, where you have to be there 10 generations before you're allowed to speak. It's not Los Angeles, where no one will listen to you unless you're wearing a thong and a space helmet. Dallas is a place where people can make their own way, be all that they can be and so on. A good place.
So why should the city government here be so fantastically screwed up? We're not dolts. We're not peasants. We're not all Mark Cuban.
It's the system. The mechanism. The way it's set up.
Good news: Right now at least three different plans are afoot to do something about it. Maybe more, maybe fewer, depending on which conspiracy theory you believe. I try to be balanced and believe them all.
Last July, David Laney, a prominent Dallas lawyer, announced he was heading up an effort by an unnamed team of downtown bigwigs to get a proposal on the ballot next May to establish a "strong mayor system" at City Hall. Let me explain strong mayor. The current mayor, Laura Miller, is strong because she lifts weights and climbs trees. That's not what we mean.
What we have now at City Hall is what I call the weak-weak-weak system--weak mayor, weak city manager, weak city council. The mayor's a figurehead. She has one vote on the city council. If City Hall were the Titanic and the iceberg were right off the port bow, she would have to persuade an eight-vote majority of the 15-member steering committee to agree to a 20-degree starboard turn.
But she couldn't make the turn herself. The mayor is not allowed to touch the wheel under our system. She would have to inform the ship manager of the steering committee's decision.
So here comes the ship manager, and she has kind of a skeptical scowl on her face. She thinks it may take a two-thirds vote of the steering committee to authorize any change of course more than 15 degrees. She has to confer with the ship's attorney.
My advice? Knock down a couple of old ladies, grab a seat on a lifeboat.
So 90 days ago there was Laney's proposal. Then last week Beth Ann Blackwood announced an effort. Blackwood, a lawyer, has announced her candidacy for the District 14 city council seat (half-circle around the bottom of the Park Cities).
When I first met her a year ago, Blackwood was already talking about the need for a strong mayor system. I met with her again last week: She told me her backers, also unnamed, have already raised the money needed to conduct a petition drive.