Eye of the Storm (The Mystery Squad)

Epilogue

July, 1992

The nominee positions himself on stage. He looks out before a swirling storm of supporters and says: "Thank you—thank you again. It's been a long and treacherous road. I don't need—I don't need to tell you we've all suffered a great loss—a great loss. One of our own was cruelly taken from us."

The audience does not react.

"Ladies and gentlemen, nothing is certain. I could not have known—at the beginning of this campaign—I could not have known that my opponent, a man I greatly respected and admired, would take his own life. Ralph Barrow was a decent man. A brilliant man. A shrewd politician, with a future bright as the sun. Had he survived, I have no doubt he would be standing at this podium today. But we can't change the past. No matter how much we want. No matter how hard we try. What's done is done cannot be undone. Friends, we can't bring Ralph back. We can honor his legacy."

He shuffles his notes.

"I was in Albany, campaigning, when I heard the news. I cancelled all of my events that night. I just couldn't see how I could go on, when something so tragic had just happened. I didn't campaign for a while, after that. I even considered ending my campaign, allowing new faces, untarnished by recent events, to take over the nomination. Then, I thought to myself—I thought to myself—what would Ralph do?" He nods, pausing for melodramatic effect. "He'd go on. If the shoe were on the other foot, he'd go on. I know in my heart that Ralph would find a way to make the best of a bad situation. He never thought about himself, that man. Most politicians, myself included, believe in some form of small 'r' republicanism. Now, we believe we oughta trust our conscious, as well our constituents. Well. Not Ralph. Ralph was a—Ralph was a true democrat, he never asserted his own opinions over the opinions of his voters. That confused a lot of people. I'll be honest—Ralph confused the hell outta me."

The crowd laughs respectfully.

"He—he will be missed. But Ralph's message lives on. Politics is not the answer. We cannot go on, as a country, if we continue to bicker over petty issues. I'm a man of principal. I've never denied this. Ralph loved to point this out, one of his many points against me. I can't change who I am, but we agree—there are times—times such as these—times to put our difference aside and come together in the name of the nation. In the name of the Party."

Now, the crowd cheers.

"All of us—black or white, rich or poor, Democrat or Republican—we are more similar than we are different. Ralph knew this. I know this. We cannot allow the divisions in our society to fester. We must—we must come together as one united people. As one united Party, standing together for justice." The audience is aware of Wakefield's own contradictions. His once passionate beliefs, reduced to pandering to former Barrow voters—the strategy is obvious even to the most casual observer.

Wakefield finishes his speech with frustrated grace. His campaign overshadowed, but not yet diminished, by Barrow's suicide. A once fierce candidate, "The Bayou Bulldog" no longer exerts the same passion out of his supporters. His message of unity is unclear. His policies vague. A seasoned politician, Wakefield learns from his tactical mistakes. Be opaque. Be indescribable. Be Barrow. His scandals disappear. Christine Short becomes a reluctant supporter, despite her unwavering desire to stay away from the spotlight. She makes the rounds on television, preaching Wakefield's message, carefully written and rehearsed—as it was with Barrow. She admits, one night, that her politics most closely resemble Wakefield's original, progressive message, but softens her statement with a prepared call for unity. Wakefield is nominated unanimously, swaying the protest votes with his convention speech. November looks bright for the Wakefield campaign, but one fact remains.

Life is short. Nothing is certain.