Blind Allegiance to Sarah Palin (58 page)

One last thing is equally clear: the governor and her husband now officially hated Jim Minnery, despite sharing the same God. Nor did it matter that Minnery was leading the fight for parental notification, to which Sarah claimed to be so passionately committed.

When Sarah turned on Jim Minnery and his/their cause—for the sole purposes of making money and causing him embarrassment—I saw how blind I'd become. Finally, Sarah Louise Palin's petty ways and butchered priorities would set me free.

37
 

No Excuse

T
he headline across thousands of flyers sent out by the sponsoring group Alaska Family Council and its president Jim Minnery read:

The plan was to have Sarah attend the ceremonial signing of the Parental Consent Act citizens' initiative that would hopefully lead to a vote for passage into law—over the supreme court ruling—the requirement that minors notify their parents prior to having an abortion. Slot number one on the petition was left open for Sarah's signature, while the guest speaker, conservative Star Parker, an ex-drug addict and prostitute whose faith in God turned her life around, was to be flown in to share the podium.

The arrangements began on June 27, two months ahead of the event, when I emailed Sarah,
“This week we expect the parental consent initiative to be certified. The sponsors would like to bring up Star Parker to do a kickoff event . . . where you ceremonially become the first signature.”

Sarah wrote back,
“Yes! Awesome! Sooner the better. Great work on this! THIS is the stuff that really matters—thank you!”

Even with Sarah's penchant for changing her mind, this was such an important issue for her that I had few concerns. There were two things Sarah never wavered from through all our tumultuous years together. She held Ronald Reagan sacrosanct, and she believed in a child's right to life, above all other causes.

Jim Minnery, perhaps because of the strife involving Morgan Christen a few months earlier, was less sanguine. On July 13 he asked me to make sure our commitment was rock solid.

As I'd just received reconfirmation on July 8 from the governor, I assured Jim that we were 100 percent committed. On that day, Sarah even suggested I pass along some advice:
“Tell them if I were in charge they'd do sooner rather than later.”
In her mind, no issue had more urgency than this.

On July 16 the only wrinkle needing pressing came from, naturally, Todd. He wanted to know,
“Who is star parker, what have they done for
[
Sarah
]
?”
Todd's hint at some kind of quid pro quo made me nervous enough to ratchet up my contacts with Sarah and her scheduler and PR mouthpiece Meg Stapleton. Meg said, “Sarah says she's coordinating this with you directly. Please call her.” Sarah reconfirmed on August 1 that she was totally committed and wrote,
“I'm sending to Meg for Aug calendar, thanks.”
Meg took the time to also thank me personally for
“taking so much time to put this together.”
As if that motivated Sarah, she again wrote,
“Thanks, and thanks for working on this.”

Throughout the process, I indicated to the governor that should she wish to speak, she'd have the opportunity to do so at each of the two back-to-back events. Though not a requirement—Sarah's ceremonial first signature on the petition was the main event—knowing how important this cause was made me suspect she'd want to say something. She was also aware that Minnery's charity would receive a much-needed $500 per ticket, and they expected a large turnout. There was a lot at stake, all of it—by our way of thinking—good.

In one of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for moments, Jim Minnery became fearful that he might get his wish that
Palin has given a commitment to Republican Women Federated down in California. Would be great to get a similar commitment
. On July 30, 2009, only ten days before that scheduled event sponsored by the nonprofit Simi
Valley Republican Women Federated, and after large doses of publicity and contributions of up to $150 a head from an estimated nine hundred people, Sarah demonstrated how strong that “commitment” was when she canceled. The announcement was made public by Meg Stapleton on Sarah's Facebook page, writing,
“Neither the governor's state staff or SarahPAC has ever committed to attending this event.”

Skipping a function honoring Ronald Reagan? Especially as I too believed that she had fully committed, this came as a shock. Since Sarah regularly canceled appointments and appearances, maybe I was being naive. In 2008 she accepted a speaking engagement at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), but backed out at the last minute. At the time, I thought her reasons seemed legitimate, as it was during the busy legislative session. I should have wondered why she accepted in the first place, though, since the legislative session always takes place the same time each year. On March 14th of that same year, she agreed to introduce future Republican Party chairman Michael Steele at the Alaska State Republican Convention. In this instance, Sarah confirmed definitively on March 1 for her 8:45 p.m. kickoff. On March 5 she had Kris Perry send a note to the organizers:
“Good news! The Governor will be doing the opening Friday in addition to the dinner w/Mr. Steel.”
On the very day of the event, March 14, Sarah reconfirmed her attendance as late as five forty-five in the afternoon, but she seemed nervous about what she would say, asking in an email,
“Does anyone know what I'm supposed to say?”
At six fifteen, after finding that she was not officially on the printed schedule, a loophole to her commitment, despite everyone in attendance expecting her, she wrote,
“Hate to bug out but if I'm not listed on program and not expected, maybe I bail without folks minding?”
Around that same time, she phoned me and said, “I just don't feel like coming into town tonight, Frank.”

Michael Steele, with his always affable smile, told the crowd Sarah couldn't come because she had very important business to attend to. He paused for a moment, then added, “Family business. The most important kind of business there is.” As the anatomy of a cancellation, this was typical, if not classic, Sarah Palin: not in the mood, get others to cover for her.

This disappearing act was followed closely by others. In anticipation of the 2009 CPAC, Joseph Logue of the American Conservative Union announced that despite the prior year's mix-up, Sarah Palin was the first confirmed speaker for the 2009 event. On February 9, a week before the convention, it was then announced Sarah would not attend after all. By this time, few people bothered to listen to the reasons why.

That same February, House Republicans invited Sarah to their annual winter retreat, hoping for a morale-building speech. She claimed she had “pressing state business,” but actually went to the elite Alfalfa dinner, a joke-filled political event, at a Washington, DC, venue just across town from the House winter retreat. One House Republican said, “She lied to us.”

Getting Sarah to meetings and events was like nailing Jell-O to a tree. On the campaign trail and as governor, Sarah went through at least ten schedulers, with few lasting more than months. Nobody wanted the job because Sarah might fail to honor, at the last minute, the smallest commitments, and making excuses for her became a painful burden. In at least one instance, a scheduler quit after breaking down in tears; another left after being accidently copied on an email from Sarah trashing her.

Even without my extensive knowledge of Sarah's commitment infidelities, the Reagan Library cancellation unnerved Minnery. A few weeks before the event, he wrote,
“With the announcement . . . about the Gov now not speaking at . . . the Reagan Library . . . I've had a few people want me to assure them that she will be at our function.”

I now shared his concerns about a flake-out, so I reconfirmed with the governor. She responded affirmatively.

On Sunday, August 23, four days from Parental Consent D-day, I was preparing to depart on a charity mission sponsored by my Rabbit Creek Community Church to travel north to the town of Eagle along the Yukon River. The region had suffered some of the most severe and destructive floods in modern history, and relief workers were desperately needed. At the same time, after the state supreme court debacle on top of a cascading number of distracting and often ridiculous crises and vendettas, I felt the need to heed a clear calling from God to do
something worthy in His name. Being Sarah's lapdog struck me as no longer qualifying on that count.

As I stuffed Cheetos and heavy clothes into a duffle, my cell phone rang. I recognized the number: Todd Palin. He began with chitchat. “How's the family, Frank?” Then, he said, “By the way, Sarah's not coming.” Todd didn't care that this was a firestorm in the making. The disappointment, the PR hit, the lack of credibility on the back of just recently canceling the Reagan Library function—none of that sunk in. “She's out of town and won't be back.”

Over the next day, I sent Todd wasted text messages begging for Sarah to reconsider. Eventually I had to phone Minnery on Monday afternoon. Jim was home in bed, ill, so I spoke to his wife and dropped the bomb. She said, “People told me she'd do this! This is sickening.”

Jim Minnery picked up, so ill he could hardly speak. “Where is she? We'll fly her back. Tell her we have people coming from their hospital beds just to hear her speak.”

And what was Sarah doing that was so much more important than helping save unborn children? Todd wouldn't say. Sarah would never say. Shortly afterward, her publisher, HarperCollins, announced that it had decided to accelerate the publication date of
Going Rogue
from spring 2010 to November 2009. Chief collaborator Lynn Vincent lived in San Diego, and when I received a Twitter friend's message about seeing Sarah in a shopping mall there, the evidence was enough to convince me she and Todd now cared most about the millions of additional dollars available to them if the book were to come out before the Christmas holidays.

She could've flown in on the Family Council's dime, flown back down to San Diego the next morning, and missed only a half day of work on her book.

Everything had a price, including being governor of the greatest state in the nation.

Sarah sold us out, every last one of us.

And that she did so and embarrassed Jim Minnery—who had caused her so much misery during the Judge Christen appointment—was undoubtedly a bonus for both Sarah and Todd.

Meg Stapleton claimed that Sarah never committed to Minnery
and never heard anything about the possibility of speaking. It's not Sarah Palin's fault, she said.

There were things in Sarah's life that weren't good and weren't her fault. There were far more things in Sarah's life that weren't good and were her fault, despite a denial after each and every one. This cancellation and outright lie fell squarely in that latter category.

“I welcome being held to a higher standard,” she swore a dozen times without once meaning a word she said.

As I spoke with Jim Minnery and his wife that Monday afternoon ahead of the Parental Consent gathering, I had to agree, “Yeah, you're right, it stinks.” All I could add was, “I am truly sorry.”

Jim Minnery had no way of knowing how sorry I truly was, for
every stinking thing
.

38