by Logan Jenkins, U-T San Diego -
Former District Attorney Paul Pfingst describes as “hallucinogenic chess” the maneuvering to blast Mayor Bob “Hell No I Won’t Go” Filner out of office.
To be sure, a surreal array of end games present themselves, all blurring into each other in a psychedelic traffic jam as alleged sexual harassment victims keep surfacing with drip-drip-drip regularity.
On Tuesday, yet another woman, a nurse advocating for a wounded Marine, came forward to add more sexually dark texture to the portrait of the mayor as an old letch.
So far, three plausible checkmates have received the most attention: resignation, probably under the clear and present danger of Filner’s “financial Armageddon,” as Pfingst puts it; recall, if more than 100,000 signatures can be gathered in the relative blink of an eye; and criminal prosecution, a clear-cut verdict even our thick-skinned mayor could not ride out.
Less remarked upon, however, is the rarely invoked Section 3060 in the California Government Code that empowers county grand juries to bring accusations of “willful or corrupt misconduct in office” against public officials.
If the grand jury gives its blessing, a Superior Court trial can take place. If found guilty of one or more accusations, the official is removed from office. No civil or criminal penalties are imposed. (As I understand it, criminal cases and civil lawsuits can take their own course.)
In 2002, the mayor of Mountain View, a city in Santa Clara County, was accused of violating the city’s charter by skirting the city manager’s authority for gain.
Empowered by 3060, the grand jury heard evidence and charged the mayor. The Superior Court jury found the mayor guilty not of corruption but of “knowing and willful misconduct.”
Just like that, Mayor Mario Ambra was thrown out of office. He’d had all the process he was due.
On Friday, attorneys with Lounsbery Ferguson Altona & Peak, an Escondido firm specializing in government law, sent a complaint to the county grand jury outlining a possible 3060 case against Mayor Filner.
Though some contend the city’s charter is a roadblock to the grand jury gambit, legal experts I consulted are convinced there’s a solid legal foundation for it to go forward if the facts, not simply the allegations, line up.
Interestingly, the North County firm’s complaint doesn’t focus on sexual harassment, the emotionally combustible charges that set off the anti-Filner wildfire. Instead, it takes the Sunroad to France, so to speak.
To be sure, it’s an open question what the grand jury will do. A veil of secrecy is drawn over its thought process. And remember, any legal proceeding takes time. There’s no guarantee this method of mayoral extrication would be faster than, say, a recall.
Nevertheless, Pfingst believes it’s increasingly plausible that the state attorney general will wind up standing in for DA Bonnie Dumanis, who has recused herself, to prosecute Filner in a 3060 trial.
No matter what, it’s notable that a potent chess piece is in play to chase the rehabbing Filner into a position from which he cannot continue in office.
As if we needed further proof that You Can’t Make This Stuff Up, let’s go back to 1999, Mayor Susan Golding’s last year in office.
In what was widely seen as an eccentric exercise of its powers, the county grand jury accused Golding of a secret quid pro quo with the San Diego Hotel-Motel Association to pass Proposition C, the downtown ballpark measure, and sought her ouster from office.
In a sharp rebuke to the grand jury, Judge Wayne Peterson declared Golding factually innocent. Then and there, the 3060 case died. In his ruling, Peterson blistered the watchdog group, saying the charges were “more an indictment of the grand jury” than of the mayor.
Shortly after being taken to the woodshed, foreman Peter DiRenza addressed a progressive crowd and defended the anti-Golding effort.
“The people who don’t want the grand jury are afraid of the grand jury,” he declared. “They don’t want the skeletons coming out of the closet.”
Among those voicing support for the jury’s aggressive attitude toward suspected mayoral malfeasance was a particularly noisy congressman.
Yes, you guessed it.
From the back of the audience, Bob Filner drew applause when he shouted: “I just want you to know there’s one public official who says thank you!”
How rich the irony if the grand jury, often derided as gone in the teeth, proves to be a decisive piece on the surreal chessboard.
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