Brett “Fraud”
I am a sucker for scandals. We all are. It’s fun to watch the rich, arrogant, selfish and famous brought low by their own misdeeds. It’s satisfying. From Watergate to Iran-Contra, from CIA misdeeds to ABSCAM, to members of Congress stashing cash in their freezers, the human impulse to profit off influence and power never gets old.
When I was a kid, scandal made me want to be a journalist. I was 13 when Woodward and Bernstein broke the Watergate story for the Washington Post which culminated in the resignation of President Richard Nixon. I was hooked. I wanted to be Woodward and Bernstein. I wanted to be a reporter and break my own scandal. I couldn’t wait.
Later, as a young reporter in Washington, I would sneak into the Washington Post newsroom to read the job ads on the bulletin board. I even scored a quick meeting with Woodward himself, who advised me to head south to a smaller newspaper and learn the trade.
And learn I did.
Working for the Nashville Tennessean potential scandal was everywhere. Police brutality, sweetheart city contracts, state officials caught in illegal gambling trade. It was a playground for a young reporter on the make. I learned that political scandal sprang from human weakness, that the motivation behind all scandals are often the same: money, sex, and power. Sometimes all three at once. I learned that more often than not, the actual misdeeds are far worse than what we read in the press. People of power and privilege often lose sight of their obligations and let hubris get the best of them. That hubris can bring them down, ruining their reputation.
Today, with hindsight, I can’t deny the voyeuristic appeal of the job. Watching the high and mighty laid low by scandal thrilled me beyond the idealism of good government holding the powerful to account.
That’s why the Brett Favre scandal is so enticing.
For sheer gall, it’s hard to beat the behavior of the former NFL superstar quarterback. A native son of Mississippi, a star quarterback at the University of Southern Mississippi and a Hall of Famer for several NFL teams, Favre has just destroyed his reputation for no good reason.
Here is the story.
Working with the Mississippi governor’s office and other departments in state government, Favre took part in a scheme to divert about $8 million from an anti-poverty program to build a volleyball arena at his alma mater AND fund a biotech start-up in which he has invested. Separately, he pressured state officials to send him money to build a football practice facility at the university.
Favre has yet to be charged in the scheme. The executive director of the Mississippi Department of Human Services, which administers the poverty program, has pleaded guilty to fraud. So has the leader of a non-profit that funneled the money to Favre’s favorite causes, none of which have to do with fighting poverty.
Predictably, Favre is ignoring the roadmap celebrities follow when caught doing something stupid or illegal. It’s the advice I most often give to clients and the advice that is most often ignored:
Admit fault.
Take full responsibility.
Overcompensate in fixing the problem.
Favre, of course, has taken none of these steps. Instead, he remains silent. His lawyer insists Favre had no knowledge of where the money came from; that he is innocent.
The problem lies, as it always does, with the facts. Court documents are pouring in, showcasing Favre pressuring state officials to fund the volleyball arena and his biotech start-up with state anti-poverty dollars.
They have text messages that show Favre trying to cover up his actions, including a plan to funnel $1.1 million to the quarterback in exchange for promotional appearances he never made.
Here is just one of these damning texts.
“If you were to pay me, is there any way the media can find
out where it came from and how much?’’
Other text messages between the governor and Favre show the quarterback pushing for the new football facility at the university, paid for by public dollars.
As with most scandals, part of the fun is just how bad these people are at committing crimes. Text messages? Really?
You can be sure this scandal is much worse than what we have read about. You can bet the amount of money Favre is accused of stealing is greater than we know. You can be certain the chicanery between the governor and Favre is more detailed than we know. You can bet when lower level officials got calls or texts from Favre, they had no trouble ignoring their obligation to the people of their state in favor of a celebrity. The governor no doubt really enjoyed doing business with a favorite star of Mississippi, a bona fide football hero.
I’m a little ashamed to admit but watching Brett Favre light himself on fire in public is fun. Not as much fun as Trump paying $100,000 in hush money to a porn star while his wife was pregnant, but fun nonetheless. There is a dark glee in watching the privileged and powerful brought low by a system that anointed them in the first place.
But after the fun wears off, there is a reckoning. And the Favre situation is no different.
It’s important to remember that Brett Favre runs a private foundation called Favre 4 Hope. The “4’’ was his jersey number in football.
The foundation’s mission?
Giving grants to organizations that “provide services to underserved and disabled children in Mississippi and Wisconsin.’’
While we are enjoying the demise of a football celebrity, it is easy to forget about the innocent children who needed the taxpayer money Favre stole from them. That $8 million could have helped fund Head Start, paid thousands of family’s rent or bought food for starving kids in one of the poorest states in the country.
Instead it’s going nowhere.
That is the lesson of Brett Favre. A lesson we must not forget.
