If not for Jesse Rudy, Decker would have been convicted in Biloxi, sent away, and been “off the streets.” The slanted narrative left little doubt that Jesse Rudy was responsible for the rapes.
The truth was that Jesse had been appointed by the court to represent Decker. His wife, the alleged victim, had failed to show up in court and asked the police to drop the charges. They then divorced, and Jesse never heard from the client again.
But the truth was not important. Jesse, a lawyer who represented many guilty criminals, was soft on crime. A brochure in the packet touted the fierceness of Rex Dubisson, a veteran prosecutor known to be “Tough On Crime.”
The mailing was devastating, not only because it barely nibbled at the edges of the truth, but more importantly because Jesse had no discernible means to counter it. Such a mass mailing cost thousands and there was almost no time, and certainly no money, to put together a response.
The large conference room of the Rudy Law Firm had been converted into the campaign’s headquarters, with posters and maps covering the walls, and volunteers coming and going. He met there with Keith, Agnes, and a few others, and tried to measure the impact of the mailing. The room was tense and gloomy. They had been punched in the gut and it seemed almost senseless to hustle back to the streets and resume knocking on doors.
Simultaneously, eight prominent billboards along Highway 90 sprang up with a handsome image of Rex Dubisson under the banner: tough on crime. Radio ads began running on the hour touting Dubisson’s record as a regular crime-buster.
Driving along the Coast, and listening to the radio, Jesse passed billboard after billboard and acknowledged the obvious. His opponent and his supporters had stockpiled their money, carefully planned the last-minute ambush, and delivered a crushing blow. With less than a month to go, his campaign looked hopeless.
Keith worked all night and mocked up a brochure that he presented to his father early one morning over coffee. The idea was to blanket the district with a mailing that did not mention Dubisson but went after the organized crime that was the real reason for their campaign. It would have photographs of the more infamous nightclubs where gambling, prostitution, and drugs had been allowed to flourish for years. Keith had the details and explained that such a mailing would cost $5,500. They had no time to raise the money from supporters, who were tapped out anyway. Keith, who’d never borrowed a dime, asked if there was any possible way to get a loan.
Jesse and Agnes had casually, and quietly, discussed the idea of getting a second mortgage to help fund the campaign, but were hesitant to do so. Now the idea was back on the table and Keith was all in. He was confident the money could be repaid. If Jesse won the election, he would have no shortage of new friends, along with a powerful position. The bank would be impressed and better terms could be negotiated. If Jesse lost the election, the family could double down with the law practice and find a way to satisfy the mortgage.
Their son’s courage convinced them to go to the bank. Keith went to the printer and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Over a long weekend, a team of a dozen volunteers worked around the clock addressing and stuffing envelopes. On Monday morning, Keith hauled almost 7,000 thick packets to the post office and demanded expedited deliveries. Every registered home, apartment, and trailer in the district would receive the mailing.
The response was encouraging. Jesse and his team had learned the hard lesson that direct mail was extremely effective.
Chapter 15
As the wealthiest elected official in the state, Fats Bowman owned an impressive portfolio of property. He and his wife lived in a quiet neighborhood in West Biloxi, in a modest home any honest sheriff could afford. They had been there for twenty years and still made monthly mortgage payments, just like everybody else on the street. To get away, they vacationed in their condo in Florida or their cabin in the Smokies, homes they rarely discussed. With a partner, Fats owned beachfront property in Waveland, next door in Hancock County. Unknown to his wife, he also had an interest in a new development at Hilton Head.
His favorite hiding place was his hunting camp deep in the piney woods of Stone County, twenty miles to the north of Biloxi. There, far away from prying eyes, Fats liked to call in his boys and associates and discuss business and politics.