The next day the news outlets were crazy for the story. We never did get a chance to debate the issues important to people in this election but the narrative of the event had many newsworthy elements: arson, assault and local media personalities as characters. These folks were happy to be interviewed by other journalists over and over again. The story would have legs for days.
As for our campaign, the sensational coverage was a blessing. By the end of the first news-cycle our polling numbers skyrocketed. The press framed this latest attacker as a lone wolf with a long history of mental illness. She got it into her head that the Conservative Party of Canada would take away women’s right to vote. She also believed I was the anti-Christ. This conclusion was based on the fact I had survived being shot. She believed I would one day rise up to be dictator of Fortress Canada and bar all immigrants from the country and push women back to domestic servitude.
The power of one person to effect change was impressive. I was amazed what one lunatic can accomplish when she set her mind to it and started swinging. Dale joked we should have recruited her earlier in the campaign. With her onboard from the beginning, we didn’t need to waste time knocking on doors.
I wasn’t sold on the media’s story she was a lone wolf however. Within twelve hours of her sign-wielding video going viral, I received a call from another local journalist who said he had received a complaint from an anonymous source who claimed I had sexually assaulted her during a trip to a library conference fifteen years ago. He explained he wanted a comment from me before he wrote the story. I asked him for the name of the individual. He told me he would not disclose her identity as he did not want to re-victimize her.
His next steps were to verify her claims. He told me he intended to talk to people I have worked with over the past twenty years. He gave me one last chance to comment. I told him it didn’t happen and left it at that.
As a good Conservative I was quiet about my sexuality in public but everyone I worked with new I was gay. This rumour of my sexual impropriety with a member of the opposite sex died as quickly as it started. Everyone the reporter talked to identified my sexual preference. Most laughed at him.
More importantly, they also vouched for me personally. They said I was cooperative, thoughtful, collaborative and a great listener. Since these are not the classic personality traits associated with sociopathic predators, the rumour fell so flat the reporter called me back to apologize. He said the person was less than credible so he would not file the story. The reporter apologized for wasting my time and any undue stress he may have caused. My accuser – Laura Scabber – outed herself when she posted the lie on Twitter but since mainstream media did the right thing and didn’t run the story the social media post didn’t get any traction.
While I wasn’t pleased with the brutal nature of politics, it brought the truth of my sexuality out in the open. To my surprise, people didn’t care. For twenty years I was worried about coming out and the consequences it would bring. In the end, it was a non-event.
My friends, family, and neighbours only had positive things to say. Seeing this now, I realized I shouldn’t have been so conservative all these years. The only person surprised with the public news of my sexuality was me.
One thing this latest dirty tactic did achieve though was to fortify my resolve. This latest attempt toughed me up. My rhino skin had thickened and was being fitted with Kevlar.
On the campaign front our get tough on crime campaign was in full swing. True to his word, Al had the entire constituency covered within two days. Much to my surprise, the reaction was overwhelmingly positive. I was beginning to wonder if I had been too sensitive with the message. This would soon prove not to be the case.
With two days to go before election day, I walked my usual route to the campaign office. It was another lovely June day in Dartmouth. The air was warm, the birds sang, and the leaves were almost full. There was a healthy scent of pollen and promise in the air. I came around the corner and there was Maggie, the ever-working girl. She greeted me with her usual smile and big welcoming wave. Even though I was sure she had the same greeting for all the boys, she made me feel special. Maggie was a true professional.
“Hey friend, how goes the battle?” she asked with sincerity.
I was nervous but her positive attitude made our conversation less awkward.
“Hey Maggie. We’re down to the wire now. There are only a few days left,” I responded.
“Wow, you should be relieved. I thought I was the hardest working public servant in the neighbourhood but your pace has been impressive! And after the other night, it looks like you are getting almost as much action as I am!” she joked.
“Thanks Maggie. I am just trying to keep up. You make it hard.”
“That’s my job. One thing we need to talk about though…” she said.
My pulse quickened. I thought maybe she had been too busy and didn’t hear about the latest turn in the campaign, but no such luck. No mobile Candy Crush game time for her. Just news and hard work.
“Yes Maggie?” I asked with trepidation.
“I saw your new brochure yesterday… It was in my mailbox when I got home from picking my daughter up at preschool. I was pissed bud. Looks like just another cheap shot at people who don’t deserve it. Then, I took a deep breath and remembered it was you. I started thinking you couldn’t be attacking us, you are too nice of a guy for that,” she said.
“Look Maggie… Let me explain. I…”
She cut me off.
“Let me finish please. I needed to think it through. So, I logged into my chat group and the girls and I started talking… You have helped all of us. We couldn’t imagine you would be anything but supportive. We decided, while your message on this was blunt, that ultimately you have our back,” she explained.
“Wow Maggie, I don’t know what to say. You are much better at this than me. We need to get your name on an election sign one day,” I replied.
“Not a chance. There is way too much bullshit. I couldn’t fake it for that long. Politics needs a whore with more patience”, she joked.
We laughed loudly.
“So, take it to them kid! You still have my vote! And from the comments on the chat; most of the girls in the neighbourhood are on your side too. How many days did you say before the vote?” she asked.
“Two. Almost there,” I replied.
“Okay. Let me doing something for you,” she said.
“Maggie that is very generous of you, but don’t worry about it. You are a busy girl,” I responded.
“No seriously I want to help. If you are working for working girls then working girls should be working for you! Besides, I know a lot of people in this town. Probably more than you think,” she said with a wink.
Sometimes people make an offer you just can’t refuse. If nothing else, I looked forward to the look on Kathleen’s face when Maggie and her friends turned up to join our team to get out the vote.
“Okay. We are planning a big canvassing blitz tonight and tomorrow. How about you come join us?” I suggested.
“I will do better than that. I will call a bunch of the girls and bring along some friends! We know these streets better than you do,” she said.
“Maggie that would be awesome! You know where the campaign headquarters are?” I asked.
“Sure do,” she replied.
“Perfect. We plan to hit the streets at six pm sharp. It would be great to have you,” I said.
“Booked. I will be there with bells on!”
“Alright Maggie, thanks for everything. I greatly appreciate your help. I owe you one,” I said.
“When this is over, you won’t be the only politician in this town who owes me a favour,” she joked.
“Now get back to work. This is my corner. You do your whoring someplace else!” she said with a laugh.
“Sure thing, I will get out of your way. Love you girl!” I replied.
We both laughed, hugged, and wished each other a good day. I continued on my way to the office. I was a couple strides away when she yelled out.
“Hey Troy!”
‘Yes Maggie?”
“Some of the girls may have childcare issues. Can you help us out?”
“Anything for your girls! Tell them to bring all the kids and I will get a babysitter. We can have an old-fashioned story time!” I shouted back.
When I arrived at the office it was the usual hive of activity. The election “get out the vote” team had kicked into high gear and the place was full of volunteers. The phones were all in use. The computers were busy and the board room table was full of lists and maps as people scrutinized them intensely. It looked like Churchill’s war room and D-Day had moved into final preparation.
Through all this activity, Dot still managed to be heard. She wished me good morning. I stopped at her desk and she gave me her usual bone-breaking hug. I would miss this physical contact when it was all over. Almost four weeks of campaigning had made me crave the affection I got from her as well as the tough love advice. I didn’t care about the cigarette smoke anymore. I wasn’t going to let a foul habit come between us.
“How are things going Dot?” I said enthusiastically.
“Great Mr. Candidate. Why are you so happy? You should be a basket case after all the excitement. What have you been smoking?”
“Just a good start to the morning Dot. I had a good canvass on the way in. The last couple of days were rough but it’s almost over now. Just the short strokes left now,” I said with a wink.
“No kidding Mr. Candidate. I am glad you have finally learned to lighten up. There may be hope for you yet,” she replied.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Well, you better keep that good mood of yours kid. Kathleen wants to talk to you. The press is still excited about the debate. They can’t get enough of it,” she responded.
“Really? Kathleen couldn’t blow them off with her usual ice queen approach?” I asked.
“She tried but the reporters from the Halifax Examiner and the CBC wouldn’t go away. They want to know more about our new tough on crime policy. Seems they think this may be a decision that was made somewhere else,” explained Dot.
“What would ever give them that idea?” I said.
Dot gave me a familiar look, the one with her forehead thrust forward and her eyes peering over the top of her glasses. The look which spoke volumes and required no reply. She punctuated it with a smile.
“Thanks for the heads-up Dot. Hey, I know it is going to get crazy around here. Before it does I want to say it has been a real treat working with you. Its people like you who make it worthwhile,” I said sincerely.
“Jesus Christ… Don’t start getting all maudlin on me. You can thank me when it is over. Not now. Plus, you know I am only doing this for the money,” she replied with a smile.
“Of course, and the great benefit package we offer,” I joked.
“Seriously though, just do me a favour and win this thing. I believe you are the best person for the job. People like me are too old for this shit and I am counting on you to pick up the ball,” she said.
“Thanks Dot,” I replied.
“Back to work kid. A couple other things: Pastor Perry called again. He really wants to talk to you so you should call him back.”
“Pastor Perry. Sure. Perry, is that his first name or his last name?” I asked Dot.
“Both,” she replied.
“Perry Perry? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“That is easy to remember. Reminds me of my favourite hot sauce… suits a fire and brimstone Baptist preacher. What’s the other thing?”
“That NDP friend of yours, you know the one who promised you she was going to do some work for you and after a couple of days we never saw her again?” said Dot.
“Yes, the loyal Margaret. The one you chased off like a skateboarder at a strip mall?” I asked.
“She wants you to call her. She said it is important. Here’s her number,” replied Dot.
I took the pink message paper from Dot’s wrinkled fingers yellowed with nicotine.
With all the work left to do I almost tossed the note with Margaret’s number in the blue bin. I decided against it. A good candidate talks to everyone, even the ones who didn’t deserve it. I folded the pink slip and tucked it in my front pocket.
“Alright Mr. Candidate. The press is waiting for you. Knock ‘em dead kid,” said Dot.
I left Dot and made my way to the board room to meet with Kathleen. She told me she wanted me to talk to the reporters on speakerphone. I refused. With no time to argue, she reluctantly agreed. However, she hammered home how important it was for me to stay on message. She handed me talking points printed in a font large enough to be the top line of an eye exam poster. I took the sheets from her and taped them to the wall on the opposite side of the room from where I would use the phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just want to tack it up where I can see it,” I deadpanned.
I thought this comment might piss her off but she showed no reaction. She just glared at me with her usual steely, unblinking, blue steel eyes. Wow, she is a piece of augmented humanity. I wished I could program her to clean my house.
“Whatever you need to do to get this right, go for it. I will be here if you need me,” she said as she left the room.
I called the CBC reporter first. It was the least I could do after the Corporation came to my rescue.
Much to my disappointment, the call was not taken by the reporter at the debate. I talked to a student intern who stumbled over the questions and let me control the information flow. I used his inexperience to my advantage.
I doubled down on our attack of the Liberal MP even though I knew he was a decent guy. The nervous intern let me run with it and made no attempt to bring me back to the issues. I ignored Kathleen’s speaking notes tacked to the wall.
The reporter let me comment at length about the MP being soft on crime. It was like we had paid for the airtime and he was the copywriter. Not once, did he try to stop me during my vitriolic rant. The gloves were off. This election campaign had turned into a street fight and this referee from the CBC left his whistle in his pocket. I attacked my Liberal opponent like I was Vladimir Putin talking to Radio Russia.
When I was finished the rant, the young CBC intern thanked me and wished me luck. Seriously? Jesus, Dot was right. What the hell is wrong with young people today? They need to stop watching the action and jump into the game.
The Halifax Examiner reporter was not so green, but she had other limitations. The online news outlet she worked for operated with a small staff who had to cover three beats at the same time. The group recently reduced its’ staff by a third to keep the paper competitive.
Unlike the CBC reporter who gave me all the time I wanted, she told me I only had five minutes. With the clock ticking, she took complete control of the interview. Up front, she asked me if the Conservatives were saying the Liberals supported prostitution?
I dodged the question and tried to steer it to the Liberals being soft on crime. She tried a second time, but still could not get me to bite. We went back and forth with this dance a few more times.
With our five minutes up, she gave up trying to pin me down. She thanked me for calling her back and that was it. The interview was over. In journalism’s new market place, it has gotten easier and easier to spin the message. The truth may be out there but with fewer people on the hunt, fake news was winning hands down.
When I was finished with the press I hung up the phone and gave Kathleen a thumbs up. She nodded and went back to work. I realized then Kathleen and I have never had a casual conversation. She may be all business but I should have found the nerve to get to know her. Oh well, I was sure I didn’t hurt her feelings. She needed to have some for that to happen.
Feeling empowered after talking to the press I called Pastor Perry. He answered on the first ring.
Hello. Pastor Perry speaking.”
“Pastor Perry, it’s Troy Myers. How are you?” I said.
“Mr. Myers. Thank you for returning my call. I greatly appreciate you taking the time,” he replied warmly.
“No problem Pastor Perry. What can I do for you?” I asked hiding any trepidation.
“I don’t want to waste your time so I will get to the point. As you are well aware, the abortion debate is a subject our church considers very important. My congregation is looking for guidance on who to vote for. So, I would like to know where you stand on the issue?” he asked.
Wow, he didn’t joke when he said he would get right to the point. The two reporters could learn from this guy! I took a deep breath and jumped right in. A direct question deserved a direct answer.
“Thank you for the question Pastor Perry. Our leader has been very clear on this issue. Our party will allow MP’s to speak freely on abortion and can vote their conscience” I replied.
“Okay. That is a good start. So, where do you stand? If the issue ever does come to the house, how will vote?” he asked.
So much for dodging the question with the canned response from head office. I thought about trying to obfuscate but decided against it. He would see right through me. I took another deep breath and ran toward the fire and brimstone.
“Personally speaking, Pastor Perry, I think any time an abortion happens it is tragic. Everyone involved with it is affected in a negative way. There are no winners when the decision to have an abortion is made. Everyone loses. That said, women should have the right to decide if they are going to have a baby or not. Right or wrong, it is her decision to make. We need to make sure she has all the support and information she needs to make the best decision she can under these very difficult and tragic circumstances,” I replied.
There was a long pause as I waited for him to reply. He cleared his throat like it was a dirty drain.
“Mr. Myers, while we don’t agree on this issue I do appreciate your acknowledgement that abortion is a tragedy and there are no winners. Your response tells me you have a grasp of the gravity of such difficult societal problems and I find this more meaningful than our Prime Minister’s quick flippant answer that women have a right to decide what happens to their bodies. I think he spends more time thinking about what socks he is going to wear than he does thinking about what really matters to Canadians. You will have our vote. Understand though, we are watching you and will hold your feet to the fire. Good luck and God bless,” he said before hanging up.
That went better than I thought. Once again, I learned things are not always as they seem in this business. Some people you expect to be enemies are not, while some you consider friends may not always have your best interests at heart.
With this thought in mind, I remembered to call Margaret. After our last encounter I had little interest in talking with her. Dot was probably right about her. Then again, she is a friend and a voter too. I shrugged off the negativity and decided she deserved my time as much as anyone.
My skin, like a rhinoceros’ hide wrapped in Kevlar, now had a Teflon coating.
I picked up the phone and dialed Margaret’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey Margaret, it’s Troy.. Dot says you called,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
“Thanks for getting back to me. How are you?” she replied.
I detected tension in her voice. Her breath seemed short and constricted.
“I am keeping it together. What’s up?”
“Can we meet for coffee? I would like to talk to you in person,” she responded with urgency I wasn’t ready for.
Jesus, she was unbelievable. I wasn’t in the mood to let her waste more of my time.
“Not sure I can find the time Margaret. As you can imagine, we are pretty busy right now. I don’t have time to go to the toilet let alone for coffee,” I said.
“Troy, this is about the campaign. There is something you need to know. I can’t be part of it anymore,” she said.
With that, she had my attention. I agreed to meet with her at Chapters at Mic Mac Mall. The store had a Starbucks which would be a nice treat after all the Tim Horton’s coffee I had been drinking.
Bookstores and libraries have always soothed my soul. If Margaret had something serious to share I wanted to hear it surrounded by books while I sipped dark coffee brewed to bitter perfection.
With my venti coffee warmly in hand, I found a table for two in the corner by the window. Margaret arrived on time. We hugged awkwardly. The tension in her voice earlier was amplified in person. She put her bag down next to the vacant chair and went to get a coffee. I sat down again, watched her walk away and wondered what the hell was up.
She was back with coffee before I could conjure up any demons or unearth the worst skeletons that hid in my imagination. She sat down and stared at me. I stared back. I waited for her to speak. This awkward situation had become uncomfortable.
“So, what is up?” I asked to shatter the silence.
“I am sorry,” she said as she fought back tears.
“Sorry? For what?” I said.
“For not being truthful with you.”
“About what?” I asked
“The NDP campaign decided we needed to find out everything we could about your plans. After all the positive media attention you were getting we knew you would be a star candidate. In our view, you were the frontrunner from the day the writ dropped.”
“Frontrunner? Long shot you mean,” I interjected.
“Not in our view. The Liberals had their turn and we were counting on winning the seat back. That is the way it works here. Libs have it for a term or two and then we do the same. Tories haven’t had a shot in Dartmouth for thirty years,” she said.
“Fair enough. It has been a long time…”
“You changed everything. When you joined the Conservatives you gave the Tories a chance. To counter this threat, I was persuaded to get close to you and see if there was anything we could dig up and use…”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Jesus Christ, Dot had been right all along. Margaret was a shit heel spy! My anger and anxiety sparked. I took a deep breath and pushed it back behind my new Teflon-coated armour.
“What the hell Margaret? Are you are telling me you came over that day with your offer to volunteer only to get our game plan and dig up dirt??” I said with a sense of disbelief.
“Yes. I don’t feel good about it. You have been around long enough to know this shit happens. It’s trench warfare. I got caught up in it. I am sorry,” she replied.
“Jesus Margaret, this is a little different than kicking over a few lawn signs and taking cheap shots on the doorstep. What about our friendship for fuck sake?”
She cast her eyes downward and stared into her coffee. We sat in uncomfortable silence. I drank my coffee and waited.
“That is the reason I didn’t come back. After I talked to you that day I wasn’t comfortable with it. You a nice guy, probably too nice for this business. In the end, I didn’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t be their mole,” she explained.
“Didn’t want to hurt me? Margaret, that is pretty fucked up,” I said.
“The stakes are high Troy and the NDP party has come to the realization, if it is going to get a chance, it has to fight harder. The party will use any means necessary. Professional union organizers are now in charge. They are prepared to do whatever is required to win,” she said.
“Wow, what is next? Are you going to start breaking knee caps? Hand out bottles of rum, crack, or better yet, how about fentanyl? Keep this shit up and you will start making postal unions look good! What about the anthrax attack on our office? Did your crew organize that too??” I said.
“No! We are not sociopaths! I have no idea who did that to you.”
“Right. So why should I believe you now?”
“Look, you have every right to be angry. I deserve it. In the beginning, I bought into the idea we need to win at all cost, but I found out I don’t have the stomach for it. I want to feel good about the work I do,” she replied. She raised her gaze from her coffee and looked straight into my eyes.
“So, why come here today and tell me this? Are you just trying to get this burden off your chest to sooth your socialist soul?” I asked sarcastically.
“No. I came to warn you. I am here to tell you they are taking it a step further,” she replied.
“What? They didn’t think getting one of my friends to spy on me was rock bottom enough so they had to get the shovels out?? What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“The latest NDP internal polling has you clearly in the lead. I am sure your numbers are showing the same. By everyone’s measure, you are the frontrunner.”
“Good to hear,” I interjected.
“To bring you down, The NDP will be on the ground talking to parents in front of the schools about how the Tories will slash the education budget. At the grocery stores, they will tell shoppers the Tories will cut social assistance. People have been instructed to use your name as much as they can,” she explained.
“Are you kidding me? None of that stuff is true! In our platform education gets an increase, not a decrease and there is also an increase to social assistance! What the hell are you talking about?” I said unable to contain my anger.
“Most people don’t take the time to read a political party’s plan. Whether it is yours, the Liberals or ours. Even if they do read it, it doesn’t make much goddam sense to most people,” she replied.
“With this kind of dirty shit going on no fucking wonder!”
“I agree. It is dirty. I am sorry.”
“So, tell me Margaret, why do you think people will believe these lies?” I quipped.
“Because the NDP haven’t been in power yet, that is why. The party is not tainted by compromise. People see the NDP as the earnest party, the party without a history of breaking promises like the rest have,” she added.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. This is pretty nasty stuff,” I responded. At this point I was more dejected than angry.
“I am afraid there is more Troy,” she said.
“More? What now? A billboard is going up that says Conservatives back the death penalty and outlaw abortion? Welcome to Gilead, everyone! The Handmaid’s Tale comes true!”
“No, it’s about you. Do you remember Laura Scabber?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“She has told the team you put your hand up her skirt at a conference. The news has already been leaked to the press,” she said.
My mood changed immediately. I started to laugh out loud.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked in disbelief.
“Because your NDP friends are a a little sloppy with research.”
Troy Myers 