The following week, billboards along Highways 90 and 49 were converted to bold ads that read: rex dubisson—tough on shoplifters.
Any momentum the DA might have inherited due to his incumbency vanished overnight. He abandoned his “Tough On Crime” routine and struggled to find traction elsewhere. At a huge July Fourth barbecue and political rally, Rex called in sick and missed the festivities. A handful of his volunteers passed out brochures, but they were heavily outnumbered by the Rudy people. Jesse gave a fiery speech in which he blasted his opponent for being a no-show. Going for the jugular, he introduced the one issue that still frightened every law-abiding citizen. Drugs were pouring into the Coast, marijuana and now cocaine, and the police and prosecutors were ignoring the trade, or profiting from it, or sleeping on the job.
Publicly, he never mentioned Fats Bowman and the nightclub crowd. A war was coming, but he would wait until he was elected to start it. Privately, though, he called them by name and promised to put them out of business.
* * *
Two weeks before the August primary, the Dubisson campaign came to life with radio ads touting his twelve years of experience. He was a veteran prosecutor who had sent hundreds of criminals to Parchman. Seven years earlier, in his finest hour, he had successfully tried and convicted a man, Rubio, who had killed his wife and two children. It was an easy case with plenty of damning evidence, one that a third-year law student could have won. But the jury returned with a capital conviction and Rubio was now at Parchman awaiting execution. For any DA in America’s death belt, there was no greater prize than sending a man to death row. In the ads, Dubisson crowed about the conviction and vowed to be there when they led Rubio into the gas chamber. In a state where 70 percent of the people believed in the death penalty, the ads were well received.
Fats Bowman then turned the money loose and Dubisson flooded the airwaves with TV ads. The Biloxi station was the only one on the Coast and few local politicians could afford it. By late July, the Rudy campaign was almost out of money and could not answer the onslaught. The ads were thirty-second spots, professionally done, slick and convincing. They portrayed Rex Dubisson as a hard-charging DA at war with those sinister drug traffickers from South America.
To his credit, Dubisson stayed away from attack ads. He was convinced that another dirty trick would land him in court. Jesse Rudy was itching to go there and the negative publicity would only favor him. He and his team could only watch and cringe as Dubisson’s ads ran seemingly nonstop.
Keith wrote a series of print ads that accused Dubisson of “buying” the election. They ran almost daily in the Register and finally broke the campaign’s tenuous budget. There was talk of Jesse making another trip to the bank for a last-ditch loan, but he finally vetoed the idea. He was convinced he had the battle won, though the momentum seemed to be shifting. In speeches, and in private conversations with voters, he lamented the use of big money to buy an election.
* * *
When the last votes were finally counted on August 5, Egan Clement was the margin of victory. She carried Stone County by 150 votes and received only 11 percent overall, but took crucial support away from Dubisson. Agnes felt all along that many women would quietly vote for her, and she was right. The Pettigrew brothers delivered Hancock County by a margin of 820 votes. And in Harrison County, the longtime stronghold of the Fats Bowman machine, Jesse collected almost 900 more votes than Rex Dubisson.
With 51 percent overall, he avoided the runoff and became the new district attorney.
Getting Egan Clement in the race had been a risky move. She could have easily forced a runoff, one that Jesse could not afford to fight. With unlimited cash and access to TV, Dubisson would have been reelected. He graciously conceded and wished Jesse the best of luck.
A week after the votes were counted, Keith packed his car and left for law school.
Chapter 24
The sheriff arrived at Baricev’s half an hour early and saw some familiar faces. He shook hands and thanked the folks for their votes, promised to keep them safe, and so on. As usual, when he was off-duty he wore his blue suit and a tie and gave the appearance of a prosperous businessman. He seemed to relish his role as the machine boss who always delivered. Everyone knew Fats and enjoyed his routine. He was, after all, quite affable, and his mood was even merrier with his latest landslide. His reputation as perhaps the most corrupt sheriff in the state was well established, but, that aside, he ran a tight ship and was tough with common criminals. His darker side was rarely seen by the average citizen. He kept the vice in check and the mobsters in line, for the most part.