President Donald Trump has long been associated with lust. The 2016 election prominently featured "the Access Hollywood tape" in which he can be heard boasting about grabbing women "by the pussy." But recently, his affections have turned to men.

"I examined his ass," Trump said of Sen. Jon Husted (R–Ohio) at an October 17 rally. "I examined his ass. And then I looked at his shoulders; I looked at his feet; I looked at his hand; I looked at his jawline." He liked what he saw.

There is one candidate, however, whose ass appears to be safe from the president's admiration. "He may not dress right. He may not talk exactly perfectly, and he may not be the best-looking guy I've ever seen," Trump told the crowd on the first night of the GOP midterm convention in Dallas, Texas. Even still, "he deserves to be your next senator."

Such was the pitch for Ken Paxton, the Texas attorney general asking voters to promote him to the U.S. Senate. It has been a tough sell, much more so than is typical for a Republican fighting to represent Texas on the national stage. His opponent, state Rep. James Talarico of Austin, has often led in the polls in a place where a Democratic Senate victory would usually be relegated to liberal fever dreams. As A.G., Paxton has been dogged by an impeachment and by longstanding accusations, including from within his party, that his ethics compass is all but demagnetized.

There is another potential obstacle in his way, something Trump hinted at repeatedly in his Trumpian way over the course of that two-day convention. The main characters in the MAGA movement often have a kind of crass charisma—not necessarily a literal beauty, but certainly a talent for performance and presentation. This is a theme in populist movements for a reason: It's the people versus the elite, the outsiders versus the establishment, us versus them. So too can it serve as a helpful distraction when policies' practical results fail to match the promises made, as well as when allegations of corruption surface.

Paxton has the baggage with fewer obvious tools to combat it. And yet if one word best describes him, it may be survivor.

One Scandal After Another

Paxton had been Texas' top law enforcement officer for about six months when he became a defendant.

In July 2015, a grand jury indicted him on three felonies. The charges—two counts of first-degree securities fraud and one count of third-degree failure to register as an investment adviser—concerned work he had done while in the Texas House of Representatives. As state representative for part of Collin County, he convinced investors to put hundreds of thousands of dollars into Servergy, a tech startup, while allegedly failing to disclose that he was paid to attract those very investments.

A state attorney general showing up for a mug shot reverses the typical arrangement. Still, there were signs that this was on the way. In 2014, while Paxton was a state senator, the Texas State Securities Board disciplined him and fined him $1,000 for not completing the required registration to solicit investors. But while the criminal investigation delving into the full scope of alleged misconduct had been announced to the public, it was put on hold until after the election so as not to potentially sway the outcome.

It did not sway the next one either. Paxton was reelected in 2018. But that run-in with the law turned out to be just the beginning.

In 2020, the scandal that would come to define his career began to take shape. Several senior officials from Paxton's office went to the FBI to report him for what they said was an inappropriate and illegal relationship with his friend Nate Paul, an Austin real estate developer who was already under federal investigation.

Paxton, the officials said, had leveraged his office to help Paul in various legal disputes, such as foreclosure proceedings. They also alleged that the attorney general had deployed a special prosecutor to go after Paul's enemies. Paxton denied the accusations. He was reelected in 2022.

"These were upstanding people that Ken Paxton himself had hired because of their conservative bona fides. And yet they all left stating, 'I don't want to have anything to do with this guy,'" says one Republican official who worked alongside Paxton in the Texas government. "It's basically the story of Ken Paxton in my mind. If he doesn't cross the line and literally break the law, he constantly skirts it. And therein lies the problem.

"Now, that's not me saying that he doesn't break the law," the official continues. "I'm just saying that is kind of his MO."

The following year, the Republican-led Texas House of Representatives impeached Paxton for conduct related to the same scandal. The information aired during his trial, particularly as it related to his love life, arguably made the biggest impression on the public consciousness. Paul, it seemed, had set up a fake Uber account under the name "Dave P." It had a mysterious habit of summoning cars to pick up a passenger a block from Paxton's house so it could travel to the apartment of Laura Olson, Paxton's girlfriend.

This was complicated, because Paxton also has a wife, Angela Paxton, herself a member of the Texas state Senate. That body would go on to acquit Paxton of impeachment in September 2023. Angela announced two years later that she was filing for divorce "on biblical grounds."

As for that 2015 criminal indictment, the attorney general was set to go to trial in April 2024, after a series of protracted delays, when he cut a deal at the 11th hour. He would pay restitution and do community service, and in exchange, the prosecutors ultimately dismissed the charges. Had he been convicted, he faced decades in prison, and, per his own guidance, he would likely have been precluded from running for public office in Texas again as a felon.

Paxton declared his candidacy for the U.S. Senate the next year.

A Blunt Instrument

Paxton's knack for survival has long baffled onlookers. "The guy's ability to take shots and just keep moving on and stay in elected office is unlike anything I've ever seen in my career in 25 years of running campaigns," Ash Wright—previously a senior adviser to George P. Bush, who invoked the incumbent's mug shot in a 2022 bid to be attorney general—told the Associated Press in July.

How he does that is a matter of some mystery, given he does not possess the showmanship the president favors. One answer might provide a window into how the Republican Party has evolved in recent years. What Paxton may lack in stage presence, he makes up for in a willingness to use his office as a performative blunt instrument.

The attorney general's lengthy tenure has been consumed almost entirely by two categories: high-profile scandals and high-profile lawsuits. During the 2026 Senate primary, as he made his case that he should replace Republican John Cornyn, Paxton advertised his conservative credentials with a statistic: He had "sued [President Joe] Biden over 100 times."

His lawsuits covered quite a bit of ground. There was his attempt in 2020 to overturn the election results, which the U.S. Supreme Court rejected. But he did not always fare poorly. Within days of Biden taking office in 2021, Paxton sued to stop the then-president's 100-day pause on certain deportations, which a federal court granted. He also secured enormous settlements against Meta and Google—$1.4 billion and $1.375 billion, respectively—for alleged privacy violations, although neither company admitted wrongdoing.

Paxton has not lost steam. In 2025, he filed a lawsuit against former Rep. Beto O'Rourke, a Democrat, and his advocacy organization, Powered by People, over donations that supported Democratic lawmakers who left the state to block new Republican-drawn congressional maps. "Our Texan founding fathers—like our American founding fathers—took prior restraints on political speech out of the tool kit," a Texas appeals court later wrote, "when they enshrined the right to free speech in our Constitution." The year prior, Paxton filed suit against Annunciation House, a Catholic charity that shelters migrants in El Paso; one judge called his office's conduct in that case "outrageous and intolerable." Yet Paxton has succeeded in drawing out both cases with lengthy litigation. Even when he may lose the final battle, he often hamstrings his opponents for long periods, a different kind of victory.

Has that helped make Paxton nearly bulletproof? Maybe. But it is also a snapshot of the power of branding in this political moment and how he has leveraged it offstage. "How hard is it for anybody, any Republican, to go into the A.G.'s office and sue the president of the opposing party?" says the Republican former official. "It's just typical stuff, you know. It's nothing of this great political fighter that they think he is."

When it comes to the other category—those high-profile scandals—Paxton has repeatedly denied wrongdoing, casting his legal tribulations as politically motivated witch hunts. He is, he always insists, the victim, not the perpetrator. It may be another sign of how the political landscape has changed, particularly in the GOP, in that transgressions can become capital when marketed savvily.

In the May runoff with Cornyn, who has represented Texas in the Senate since 2002, Paxton won by 28 points.

Can the Survivor Survive?

Party conventions usually exist to formally nominate a president and vice president. Those trappings were still there in the GOP's midterm convention, though no one was being nominated. There were state delegations, their role entirely symbolic. There were balloons and sequins and Lee Greenwood, who introduced the president both nights by singing "God Bless the USA." Trump, of course, loves a good production.

You couldn't help but get the feeling sometimes that the event was largely mounted for Paxton. It took place in Dallas, after all, and his race was a constant part of the discussion.

"He is a weird-looking dude," Trump said. That time, he was referring to Talarico, whom he called "Talafreako." That comment didn't come with an endorsement. "I mean, I don't like talking about looks, but there's something missing there."

Talarico's general presentation has been a subject of fascination on the right throughout the race: his appearance, whether he likes football, accusations he's a vegan (he isn't). An ad run by Paxton deems Talarico "too low-T for Texas"—not macho enough.

How this mudslinging resonates may vary. "Policy is all that matters," Kyle Biedermann, a Republican who served with Talarico in the Texas House of Representatives, told me on the sidelines during the second night of the convention. "I don't care if he's a vegan. I don't care what he does. But his policies are horrible, terrible for our state." Those policies, he said, "are so socialist, so far, far left" that anything else is beside the point.

The night prior, when the president offered $5,000 to every American adult if Republicans won the midterms, a victory in Texas may have been at the top of Trump's mind. On closing night, during the president's second speech, Paxton was featured heavily again. Trump described how he had rehearsed for the moment with his circle. "I'll tell you what I was thinking about saying. I said, 'I don't like the way Ken dresses,'" he recounted to the audience. "And then I said, 'I don't really like the way Ken talks.' And then I said something that they really hated….I said, 'I don't really like the way he looks.'"

In the VIP section, Paxton smiled awkwardly. He is, after all, a survivor.

The post Ken Paxton Survived Indictment, Impeachment, and Scandal. Can He Survive a Senate Race? appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Paul Skalnik was one of the most prolific jailhouse snitches in American history. A new best-selling book, Catch the Devil, chronicles Skalnik's career helping prosecutors secure dozens of convictions—despite being a serial liar and criminal. His cartoonishly long rap sheet included elaborate frauds, multiple grand thefts, and sexual assault of a child; at various times, he passed himself off as a Southwest Airlines executive, a high-powered attorney, and a Vietnam War hero. In July, Reason's Billy Binion interviewed author Pamela Colloff, a staff writer at The New York Times Magazine and reporter at ProPublica.

Q: How is it possible for someone with such an intense history of dishonesty to still earn the state's trust for decades?

A: I think you hit upon the big question of the book, right? Skalnik was a former police officer himself, so he sort of knew how the game worked. When he got to whatever county jail he ended up in, he could size up whoever it was that prosecutors most wanted a conviction against. And he would produce these incredible quote-unquote "confessions." And in return for his testimony about those confessions, he would usually be let free.

You can imagine how there were police and prosecutors who bought this. I think what becomes more difficult as he's used more widely in [Pinellas County,] Florida—where he helped send upward of 40 men to prison—at what point does someone say, "What are the odds that this guy in the jail has a better batting record than our best detectives?" No one ever says that.

Q: The book covers a lot of disturbing cases, but the one central to it is a murder case in Florida. Can you set the scene?

A: There was a 14-year-old girl named Shelly Boggio who was found in a body of water. She'd been stabbed over 30 times, and the assumption was that she'd been sexually assaulted.

The investigation quickly narrows down to a man named Jack Pearcy, who had a long history of violence against women. He was the last person seen with Boggio. When he's interviewed by investigators, he realizes they know too much. So he pivots to saying that he had his housemate—Jim Dailey—with him that night, and that it was Jim who committed this crime. Jim did not have that kind of record, and there's no physical or forensic evidence tying him to the crime, or any motive whatsoever.

Skalnik is brought in very shortly before the trial starts. He is moved in the jail to be close to where Jim Dailey was. Within 24 hours, he says he has procured Dailey's confession—a total stranger who's awaiting trial. It was a story that really played upon jurors' sympathies. He talked about how Jim Dailey had supposedly told him about stabbing Shelly Boggio to death and how she'd been staring at him in this pleading way, but she wouldn't die. It's this horrific image, and he is sentenced to death.

Q: What makes you think Dailey is actually innocent?

A: There have been over 200 people in the U.S. who were sentenced to death who have since been exonerated. We know that jailhouse informants—who are notoriously unreliable—are a factor in 25 percent of those wrongful convictions.

As far as Jim's case, there's no there there. When you see a case with three jailhouse informants, no physical evidence, no motive, and your quote-unquote "eyewitness" is the main suspect in the case? There are a lot of questions.

Q: To me, the secondary theme was that when credible evidence may exonerate someone after a jury has rendered a verdict, it is depressingly difficult to get another chance.

A: I am obsessed with this idea that the system is built to compound its own errors. When new evidence comes out—and there's a lot of new evidence that comes out over the years that really points toward his innocence—you would think that would be enough. For some very good reasons, a jury verdict is sacrosanct. But what you see is that courts really look backward at precedent and jury verdicts rather than forward at new evidence.

Jim gets terrific attorneys in this case—too late. They do incredible work, and it doesn't matter. Too many judges have rubber-stamped this testimony by Paul Skalnik. There's no way for the courts to essentially say, "Hey, let's go back and look at this holistically and see if any of this makes sense." It was shocking to me to see that.

This interview has been condensed and edited for style and clarity.

The post Pamela Colloff on America's Biggest Jailhouse Snitch, Wrongful Convictions, and Criminal Justice appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Is there an exception to the 5th Amendment's promise that government cannot take private property without "just compensation"? The Supreme Court declined to address that question this past Monday when it rejected a trio of petitions asking the justices to consider whether people should be compensated when law enforcement seizes or destroys their property.

Two of the cases concerned individuals who were not accused of a crime but whose property nevertheless became collateral damage as police pursued a suspect. In June 2022, police fired 30 tear gas canisters into Amy Hadley's home in South Bend, Indiana. Officers smashed windows, tore down security cameras, ransacked furniture, ripped down a panel and a fan, and punched holes in the walls as they searched for a fugitive named John Parnell Thomas, who had never been there. The police had erroneously concluded that Thomas accessed the internet via the IP address at Hadley's home. According to Hadley, the police caused at least $16,000 in damages, which insurance only partially covered.

About two months later, a SWAT team in Los Angeles arrived at Carlos Pena's North Hollywood printing business and destroyed it, along with his equipment inside, crippling his livelihood after a fugitive broke in and barricaded himself in the shop. (The suspect ultimately escaped.) Pena alleged approximately $60,000 in damages in his suit against the city, which declined to compensate him for his losses. His insurance also refused to step in—as is common in such cases, as policies often exclude damage caused by the government.

The third petition concerned Chicago drivers whose vehicles were seized by the city over modest unpaid parking tickets. Ryan O'Donnell's vehicle was impounded and sold for scrap because of about $524 in debt. Michael Goree's was seized and relinquished to the lienholder over a debt that did not belong to him; the $560 in unpaid tickets were for a different vehicle owned by his co-signer.

In all of these cases the lower courts' reasoning came from a similar place. Hadley, O'Donnell, and Goree's petitions were heard by the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 7th Circuit, which has adopted a categorical rule: Property destroyed in the exercise of "police power" is immune to claims under the Takings Clause, the U.S. Constitution's pledge that government cannot usurp private property without fairly compensating the owner. Pena's case went to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit, where the judges have declined to issue such a sweeping exception but have instead ruled that governments are exempt from paying out claims when the police actions in question were "necessary."

In a statement, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, joined by Justice Neil Gorsuch, outlined the many inconsistencies between the circuits on the topic. "It is still an 'open question' whether these or any other approaches are consistent with this Court's precedents. Few of these decisions likewise explain the source of any such police-power exception to the Takings Clause—whether the common law, the Constitution, or elsewhere," she wrote. "Such questions thus continue to 'benefit from further percolation' in the lower courts before this Court chooses to intervene."

Sotomayor was quoting herself. In 2024, she released similar remarks in response to a petition from Texas woman Vicki Baker, whose house in McKinney had been hollowed by a SWAT team attempting to capture a fugitive. The high court declined to hear Baker's case, although she finally found relief under the Texas state constitution this year.

"It's possible that the Court sincerely doesn't think the lower courts have done enough thinking on this important but novel issue," Patrick Jaicomo, a senior attorney at the Institute for Justice who represented Hadley, tells me. "Still, we've brought them 5 cases from 5 circuits. How much more percolation is needed?…The Court is going to have to address this important issue, and it's not clear what another circuit decision or 6 might do to aid that consideration."

Though Sotomayor's statement ran in parallel to the one two years ago, its slightly sharper warning intimated that we may be inching closer to a resolution. "I again encourage courts considering this issue to take care," she wrote, "that due deference to state police powers does not eclipse constitutional rights."

The post Police Destroyed Their Homes and Businesses. The Supreme Court Won't Say Who Should Pay. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

When I wake up each morning, the most important thing is that I avoid setting foot anywhere that is not American in Name Only (AINO). This, as a native Virginian, presents a problem. The state was named after England's Queen Elizabeth I, known as the "virgin queen" for her lack of a husband. How am I supposed to go back to Virginia until it is named Americaginia? I have principles.

Thankfully, President Donald Trump is on this, having made the AINO cause a top priority. He refashioned the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America via executive order; not long after, he decreed Lake Ontario would be Lake America with another wet signature. Naturally, New Mexico is the next target. The state "should immediately change its name to New America," Trump posted this week on Truth Social. "We are not Mexico, we are the United States of America!"

So true. New Mexico lawmakers would have to initiate the transition, and the public would have to approve it—the president cannot do so with an executive order here. But it is vitally important that, when he can, he continue changing the names of geographic landmarks to maximize the use of those four beautiful syllables. And when he cannot, he must raise awareness of the AINO spirit.

I should know. I'm surrounded. Though I am no longer living in ***ginia, I reside in the District of Columbia, a name that strikes fear and loathing into the hearts of any AINO patriot. Columbia is derived from Christopher Columbus, who in 1492 sailed that ocean blue—presently called the Atlantic, we'll return to that momentarily—to what is now America. But are we really going to let our nation's capital conjure up visions of a country in South America, give or take an o? Perhaps a better question: Do we want it dedicated to an Italian? Rechristening it the District of America would be a win for AINO, a win for Trump, and a win for the progressives who hate Columbus Day. Boom.

To the north we have Maryland—named after Queen Henrietta Maria, the wife of England's King Charles I—which will need to be Americaland if I am to cross that line again. (I also ask that Americaland's drivers stop learning their technique from Grand Theft Auto.) Looking southward, I'm trapped as well: The Carolinas bear the title of Charles himself. If there is any justice, North Carolina will be North America, and South Carolina will be South America. Yes, those technically already exist, but these are the real North and South America. The others are the fake ones. (West Virginia is easy: West Americaginia.)

The president could plausibly change the names of the seas that surround this great country. At least, he could change their names in the Geographic Names Information System. Columbus sailed the American Ocean. The Pacific, meanwhile, is properly the West American Ocean—or, given that its waves break against California, the Woke American Ocean. There's something in the water.

Many may find Trump's obsession with AINO bewildering. In reality, it is to be expected. A national-populist presidency must have the requisite packaging—whether the branding primarily promotes policy or is the main event itself is a fair question. Trump is a showman, so there must be a show.

We are approaching the intermission of the second Trump administration. The plot twists—though sometimes predictable—have consisted of higher prices for everyday goods (tariffs), higher gas prices (the war in Iran), and Apple Maps now showing Rochester's shores opening their arms to Lake America. The country may be more expensive, inflation not yet vanquished, government spending altitudinous, the swamp waterlogged, that promised golden age still elusive. But at least America is more American in Name Only. 

The post Why I Can't Go Back to Virginia Until It's Named Americaginia appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Walking through East Cleveland, Ohio, feels a touch like you've wandered onto the set of a postapocalyptic film noir. Grand, gilded homes announce themselves on neighborhood streets, some crowned with turrets, many with windows punched out like missing teeth. Often, no one is home, because no one lives there. It is safer than 1 percent of U.S. cities.

So why did local law enforcement pour considerable time and resources into pursuing a man for a sound truck?

That question is not really a legal one, at least not in the most technical sense. But it is the driving force behind a thorny case a federal court recently resuscitated: Fambrough v. City of East Cleveland, a saga concerning a man whose vehicle became an obsessive target of the East Cleveland Police Department (ECPD) after he used it to campaign for a mayoral challenger.

Some of the facts are in dispute. But the basic gist is as follows: William Fambrough, long a politically engaged East Clevelander, campaigned for Juanita Gowdy—a challenger to then-Mayor Brandon King—by broadcasting messages around the city with his sound truck. That ultimately came to an end after law enforcement impounded the car, cited him for parking and noise violations, and prosecuted him for the latter.

Fambrough sued, alleging the complex legal odyssey set into motion over his step van amounted to First Amendment retaliation, an unreasonable seizure under the Fourth Amendment, and a violation of the 14th Amendment's proscription against selective enforcement. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 6th Circuit rejected some of those claims. But it resurrected claims against King and his chief of staff, Michael Smedley—depriving them of qualified immunity, the legal doctrine that inoculates state and local government officials from facing lawsuits if their alleged misconduct was not "clearly established" as illegal in prior case law. It also revived Fambrough's retaliation claim against the city.

As the 6th Circuit summarizes: King "says he received a phone call from a resident who complained about Fambrough's sound truck and someone else's box truck being parked in a residential area," so he told someone to take care of it. Scott Gardner, then the city's chief of police, "was concerned about selectively enforcing" the parking ordinance—which prohibits parking a truck in front of residential property, except for loading or unloading—because it is indeed almost never enforced. This was the beginning of a long pursuit, which ultimately saw a swarm of officers dispatched to Fambrough's house in August 2021 to confiscate the vehicle, allegedly resulting in $6,000 in damage. Fambrough also had to pay $528 in fees to get the damaged truck back.

"All the attention City officials gave Fambrough struck Gardner as unusual," the 6th Circuit notes. "The mayor's office wasn't this attentive even in homicide cases. And considering that the City had around only 50 police officers at the time and had 'serious crime problems,' Gardner thought it was odd to devote this much attention to permitting and parking issues." Based on available data, East Cleveland's violent crime rate is 1,409 per 100,000 residents, about four times higher than the national average.

Yet Gardner ultimately got on board. Smedley phoned him on August 9 "extremely upset," according to Gardner, and told the police chief he was "incompetent" for failing to "take care of" Fambrough's sound truck. Smedley wanted the "utmost enforcement as possible." So Gardner sent an email. "Please, find this vehicle and tow it," he wrote to all of ECPD. "Cite the operator with disturbing the peace and loud music. Please contact me as soon as this is complete to claim a surprise." A surprise!

Police succeeded. "On its face, the email told officers to tow Fambrough's truck regardless of whether it was parked illegally," writes the 6th Circuit. "And the Noise Ordinance authorizes seizure only of 'the sound device used,' and only upon conviction. So Gardner's instruction to tow the truck wasn't authorized by municipal law." The court still held that the seizure did not violate the Fourth Amendment. It also gave Gardner qualified immunity, ruling it is not clearly established that someone who acts as a conduit for someone else's alleged retaliation—which here came from the mayor's office—is a "responsible party."

Heather McCollough, the city's assistant law director, subsequently prosecuted Fambrough for allegedly violating the noise ordinance. According to a sworn declaration from Fambrough's attorney, McCollough outlined some of Fambrough's offenses on a call: that he "made complaints about the police department" and filed "public records requests," among other issues. Notably, it is legal to do those things. McCollough was typically willing to resolve minor noise complaints, she added, but not so much in this case, because Fambrough needed to "stand down." (He ultimately pleaded no contest to disorderly conduct, a reduced charge.)

"Only after [Fambrough] began supporting Gowdy's election was the weight of the law thrown against him," the 6th Circuit writes in its analysis of potential municipal wrongdoing. "And the City's police officers didn't uncover Fambrough's violations of their own accord. Instead, City decisionmakers sent them to Fambrough's home each time to enforce the Parking Ordinance. So the timing of the parking-related enforcement actions supports an inference that Fambrough's political speech was the motivating factor—as does the fact that the City rarely enforced the Parking Ordinance against anyone else despite having plenty of opportunities to do so." Incredibly, a photo of another truck can be seen down the street on the same day law enforcement came to fetch Fambrough's vehicle. (The law also includes pickup trucks, so the city arguably has a lot of enforcement to do if it sincerely believes this law matters.)

King allegedly set the chain of events into motion while Smedley took the driver's seat. "Smedley's pattern of incessantly calling and berating Gardner," the 6th Circuit adds, "clashes with the idea that Smedley was chiefly concerned with minor permitting, noise, or parking issues." After all, if that were true, why would the problem appear to begin and end with one person?

Over five years have passed since the ordeal. Although Fambrough is now potentially closer to getting in front of a jury, he has yet to actually state his case, still burdened by the onerous process government actors invoke to kill such suits before the community can assess the merits. King, meanwhile, won that election. He left office in May 2025, however, after he was found guilty of one count of theft in office, four counts of having an unlawful interest in a public contract, three counts of representation by public official or employee, one count of filing a false disclosure statement, and one count of soliciting improper compensation.

The post He Campaigned for the East Cleveland Mayor's Opponent. Then Police Came for His Truck. appeared first on Reason Magazine.