The indictment announced Friday of Texas Republican Gov. Rick Perry may sound explosive, but it looks very weak on paper.
There are two felony counts, both stemming from Perry’s public battle to veto funds for a local prosecutor. Yet under the Texas Constitution, the governor has explicit authority for such vetos. And under the U.S. Constitution, politicians have wide authority to talk about their vetoes and votes – it’s a core example of protected political speech.
So before even wading into the details, the indictment already looks fishy. Simply put, it’s hard to imagine sending a governor to jail for talking about why he issued a veto.
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Now under the indictment’s theory, Perry’s words crossed into illegal coercion of a public servant because he “threatened” an explicit trade at the prosecutor – basically resign or lose the funding.
The indictment states that Perry spent about four days last June “threatening to veto” funding for the prosecutor, Rosemary Lehmberg, unless she resigned. That veto threat is the basis for the coercion charge. The actual veto is the basis for the charge of abusing the governor’s office by misusing “government property.”
The coercion charge is the core of the case, and it boils down to motive. The idea is that even though the governor has the power to veto, he cannot wield or threaten that power for illegal ends.
By trying to force an official out of office, and particularly an independent official with responsibilities for investigating the executive branch, the indictment alleges Perry crossed into illegal coercion. So prosecutors can argue that the case turns only on Perry’s intent to undermine the Public Integrity office – not whether he pursued that intent with otherwise lawful means.
Perry’s detractors can emphasize that abuse of office cases usually involve an official’s misuse of otherwise acceptable authority. For example, former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich certainly had the authority to fill the Senate seat vacated by President-elect Barack Obama in 2008. He was convicted of misusing the authority because he tried to sell the seat.
Even if the logic of that analogy helps prosecutors, however, the facts still help Perry. Imagine a brazen, Blagojevich-style veto threat here – it would be something like demanding an illegal, personal bribe for the veto. That’s miles away from Perry, who was vetoing funds over a staffing dispute.
Then there is the felony charge based on the veto itself. Prosecutors often pile up several charges based on related events and conduct, but the charge for the veto is especially odd and tendentious.
First, it charges that Perry’s June 14 veto amounted to a misuse of government property – of money “approved and authorized by the Legislature” to fund the prosecutors’ office. But that money was not legally available to the office unless the governor approved it. On its face, the indictment suggests that simply disagreeing with the legislature’s funding choice was itself a “misuse” of funds – a crime. That is absurd. The premise also gets Texas law backwards – it’s a line-item veto state – and seems to criminalize policy differences.









