Kilpatrick has an inexhaustible supply of Chutzpah

Sifting through the Byzantine legal and moral quagmire that is Kwame Kilpatrick’s life, it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sleaze and subterfuge.

The myriad convictions, indictments, accusations, allegations and rumors conflate to produce a tawdry tapestry of a flawed and – more tragic – imperiously arrogant man.

Despite the repugnance of his behavior and his smug refusal to own up to even minor transgressions, the ex-Detroit mayor still enjoys surprisingly widespread support among Detroiters. The recent deluge of money orders that flooded the City Clerk’s office – more than $40,000 worth in response to Kilpatrick’s failure to pony up an overdue $79,011 restitution payment – is a woeful illustration of the pathetic pathology that infests Detroit.

Kilpatrick preens and talks smack and thumbs his nose at the judiciary, then shamelessly and unapologetically accepts yet more money from people he doesn’t know (or certainly won’t acknowledge), all in order to pay a debt that he himself feels no compunction to even recognize.

Kilpatrick isn’t a bad apple. He’s neither an exception to any rule nor a good guy who made a bad decision. He is the poster boy for Detroit’s decaying culture, the personification of all that is wrong and vulgar in a once-proud city.

The anonymous money order fiasco is but one more example of the cult of celebrity that has infected our entire country, but has decimated inner cities and has Detroit, in particular, on life support. It’s reminiscent of lunch-bucket, blue-collar types in a bar who, upon spotting a hometown hero-athlete saunter in, immediately fork over their hard-earned money to buy the millionaire a drink.
 

Do as I say, not as I do
King Kwame recently appeared on a Muskegon radio station where – and this says plenty about our sorry state of affairs – he answered questions about a possible return to politics. With not a scintilla of irony, Kilpatrick said, “I think God made me to serve. I think that’s my purpose in life, but I don’t know if I have to do that from an elected office. At this point in my life, I don’t believe that that is even in my future.”

Such solipsism would be laughable but for the fact that Kilpatrick would be a viable candidate in a city replete with willing enablers. This certainly is not a scenario unique to Kilpatrick. Marion Barry, you’ll recall, was elected to city council, then re-elected as mayor, in Washington, D.C., less than a year after being released from federal prison, where he served time on drug charges. The sight of Barry smoking crack with hookers in a hotel room became fodder for late-night talk shows, and his campaign for mayor echoed the sentiments of crooked politicians across the country: "He May Not Be Perfect, But He's Perfect for D.C."

Kilpatrick embodies that very arrogance, the defiant us-against-The-Man cockiness that voters lap up. While many Detroiters are nauseated by Kilpatrick’s actions and attitude, a significant number – a disturbingly significant number – regard the ex-mayor with the same admiration afforded John Dillinger in the 1930s. He may be a gangster, but he’s our gangster.

The problem with that myopic view is that Kilpatrick didn’t rob banks. He robbed citizens, and he wasn’t standing up to “The Man.” He was The Man, and he abused Detroit residents at every turn.

Kilpatrick also followed the tired script of other celebrities in an effort to redeem his good name (oxymoronic as that sounds) by offering a veiled, indirect, hollow apology.

“Unfortunately, our world is made up of a tremendous amount of media, TV, radio, Internet, and most of it is a very skewed impression of whomever you’re talking about,” Kilpatrick said in his radio interview. “I would just want the people to know first that I’m a child of God. I love God, I love my wife, I love my children. I am not without many faults; I am not perfect.”

That’s the kind of dreck that’s supposed to ameliorate people. Gee, you’re not without faults? You’re not perfect? How humble of you – you know, in a conceited, take-no-responsibility sort of way. And what “skewed impression,” pray tell, has the media foisted upon the public regarding Kilpatrick? Maybe he’s suffering from that affliction endured by all celebrity elites – he’s misunderstood.

And how, exactly, was Kilpatrick misrepresented when tapes of his jailhouse conversations with his wife, Carlita, were played in court? The November 2008 tapes reveal Kilpatrick discussing prices and locations of a home he and his wife planned to lease when he was released from jail – which turned out to be the Dallas mansion where they now reside.

"All right, go ahead and find us a crib," Kilpatrick told his wife on the tape recorded on Nov. 21, 2008. "In a few months, this conversation is going to be funny to us -- just like most of our conversations about money."

During previous testimony, Kilpatrick had said that he did not have any knowledge of his current home lease in Texas and that his wife was now in control of the couple's finances. That presents pretty clear evidence that Kilpatrick lied in court. It’s but one example of countless instances, and nowhere is a “skewed impression” presented.

The most recent foray into Never-Never Land by Kilpatrick occurred last Tuesday, when Daniel Hajji, his attorney, argued in a 14-page motion filed with the state Court of Appeals that his client, “is going to have to function in the upper echelons of society. . . The clientele he must establish a rapport with are likely to be the privileged and the affluent. Burgers and beer at the local bar is not going to be sufficient."

This appeal was made in an effort to delay Kilpatrick’s Feb. 26 probation-violation hearing in circuit court. Wayne County Circuit Judge David Groner was to arraign Kilpatrick for failing to pay $79,011 toward the $1 million he owes in restitution. Hajji said Kilpatrick doesn't have the money, despite his plush lifestyle in an upscale Dallas suburb and a $120,000-a-year sales job for Covisint, a Compuware subsidiary.

The height of conceit was Kilpatrick taking offense at the suggestion that he live something less than a dauphin’s existence.

"The trial court appears to infer that it wants Mr. Kilpatrick to live a middle-class existence, when such an existence is inconsistent with earning a sufficient amount to fulfill his restitution obligation,” Hajji stated.

Well, first of all, the court wasn’t “inferring” anything. Hajji and Kilpatrick were the ones doing the inferring, and rightly so. The court – and most people minus burned fingers and cracked lips – doesn’t particularly care how Kilpatrick chooses to live. Middle class, lower class, trailer trash – it’s all the same to them. Just pay the money. Wining and dining potential business clients doesn’t require a salesman to dwell in splendor or cough up 15 grand for his wife’s plastic surgery.

As The Detroit News’ Nolan Finley wrote so ironically in his blog last week, “Who would buy software from a guy who lives in a bungalow?”

But those are the trappings to which Kilpatrick has not only grown accustomed, but which he expects and demands. Inexplicably, and sadly, the Circuit Court granted the appeal, quashing the arrest warrant issued only hours before and negating the need for Kilpatrick to appear before Judge Groner.

Appeals court is spineless
Karen Fort Hood, presiding judge of the appellate panel, wrote that the decision to put everything on hold came "for reasons of judicial economy." Fort Hood excoriated Hajji for his claims that his client had to maintain an air of wealth. In the motion to stop the proceedings, Hajji had written that the former mayor has to maintain an upper-crust lifestyle in Texas because he is trying to sell computer systems to "the privileged and the affluent."

Fort Hood wrote that Hajji's filing is "grossly noncompliant and inappropriate. ... This challenge raised by the defense is mere rhetoric that does not warrant any time or consideration, let alone appellate relief."

The dress-down rang hollow, like a harried mother scolding her kids with empty threats of “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

Regrettably – and, again, unfathomably -- the appellate court stayed the lower court proceedings to allow it time to review transcripts from Tuesday's hearing, in which Groner had ordered Kilpatrick to appear last Friday. So Kilpatrick skated once again.

While no one should shed any tears for Kilpatrick, or otherwise invest even a minimum amount of sympathy, it must be said that his behavior is only symptomatic of a much wider social virus. The problem lies not in errors of judgment, but in defects of character. We demand apologies – vacant, forced, trifling apologies – but accept the foundational abysmal behavior. We salve our moral outrage by demanding contriteness, then slink away for fear of being tagged with the vacuous “judgmental” label.

In a case of criminal hypocrisy, Kilpatrick said last month that young people have to start being more responsible.

“I believe that one of the issues in Michigan, in particular, is that you don’t have enough young people who are getting in grown folks’ business,” Kilpatrick said, assumingly straight-faced. “I think that it’s time for young folks to accept their responsibility in the community. Every radical, major, revolutionary change in the history of mankind started with young people.”

The problem is, too many young people are following Kilpatrick’s advice and “gettin’ in grown folks’ business.” They are robbing and being promiscuous and lying and generally exhibiting an utter lack of character. Some even are going into politics.

As for Kilpatrick admonishing young folks to start accepting responsibility, well, that is one large, irresponsible pot calling a bunch of immature kettles “black.”

Related articles

"Defense of Kilpatrick's high lifestyle rings hollow" The Detroit News

"Former Detroit mayor Kilpatrick must live lavishly, his lawyer says"  The Livingston Daily

"Former Detroit Mayor Kilpatrick thrilled as appeal succeeds"  Detroit Free Press

"Special report: Kwame Kilpatrick under fire"  The Detroit News