1971 was an election year and Jesse Rudy wasted no time in announcing his candidacy for district attorney. In early February, he rented the VFW lodge and held a reception for friends and supporters. A large crowd showed up and he was delighted with the early support. In a short speech, he again promised to use the office to do what it was supposed to do: fight crime and bring criminals to justice. In broad strokes, he talked about the corruption that had plagued the Coast for decades and the casual attitude of law enforcement toward the rampant vice. He did not mention names because he didn’t have to. Everyone in the crowd knew his targets. The name-calling would come later; the speeches would get longer.
The Register covered the event and Jesse got himself on the front page for the umpteenth time in the past four years. Since Camille, no lawyer on the Coast had received as much publicity as Jesse Rudy.
Agnes had reservations about her husband seeking office again. The nastiness of his first race against Rex Dubisson was still fresh. The dirty tricks would long be remembered. The element of danger was always in the background, though rarely discussed. With Keith in law school, Beverly and Laura at Southern Miss, and Tim headed for college in the fall, the family budget was as strained as always. The DA’s salary was barely enough to handle four kids in college. The law firm kept them above water, so, she argued, why not concentrate on the practice and let Dubisson or someone else ignore the criminals?
Jesse, though, would have none of it. He listened to her concerns, again and again, but was too focused on his mission. Since his defeat in 1967, he was more determined than ever to become the chief prosecutor on the Coast. Keith, still in his first year of law school, was of the same mind and encouraged his father to run.
After his announcement, Jesse met with the editors of the Register. The meeting did not go well, because of his aggressive approach. In his opinion, the newspaper had for too long sat idly by and ignored the corruption. It loved the crime. The murders, beatings, and burnings were always front-page news. When the mobsters went to war the Register sold even more, but it had rarely dug beneath the violence to explore its causes. And, it was too tepid with its endorsements. Fats Bowman was almost never criticized. Four years earlier the newspaper had endorsed neither Dubisson nor Jesse.
He showed the editors the infamous “I Was Raped By Jarvis Decker” ad that Dubisson had used in 1967. He reminded them of the judge’s comment of “I find these ads repulsive.”
“This was a false ad,” Jesse said, lecturing the editors. “We finally found this woman, this Connie Burns, who of course was not Connie Burns. It took me two years to track her down. Name’s Doris Murray and she admitted that someone from the Dubisson campaign paid her three hundred dollars to pose for the photo and tell her lies. It was a devastating ad. You were in court. You covered the hearing, but you didn’t do a damned thing to investigate the story. You let Dubisson off the hook.”
“How’d you find her?” an editor asked, somewhat sheepishly.
“Hard work. Shoe leather. Knocked on doors. It’s called investigative reporting, fellas. And if Dubisson tries it again this time, I’ll sue him even quicker. It would be nice if you guys would do some digging.”
After some more awkward conversation, the editor-in-chief asked, “So you want our endorsement?”
“I don’t care. It means little. You’re always quick to pipe up with an endorsement for governor or AG or some office that means little to the people out there on the street, but you claim to be impartial in the local races. Looking the other way only encourages corruption.”
He left the meeting and considered it successful. He had made them squirm and stutter.
His next stop was a meeting with Rex Dubisson, a courtesy call with a purpose. With a couple of exceptions, the two had managed to avoid each other for four years. Dubisson was rarely in court, which was part of his problem, in Jesse’s opinion. He pulled out the Jarvis Decker ad and promised nasty lawsuits if the dirty tricks started again. Dubisson snapped back that the ad was accurate. Jesse launched into a near tirade and told the story of tracking down Doris Murray. He had an affidavit signed by her in which she admitted taking cash from his campaign in exchange for her photo and false story.