Humberto is the adorable young shyster once fired from the city attorney's office for doing outside legal work on taxpayer time. Later he got in trouble for chasing grief-stricken relatives of the Valujet crash victims, a squalid little hustle that Humberto blamed on overzealous staff members at his law firm.
Most recently he was indicted by the feds on multiple counts of bank fraud and money laundering. The governor dutifully suspended Hernandez from the City Commission. On Nov. 4, Miami citizens enthusiastically returned him to office with 65 percent of the vote.
Fittingly, it was Hernandez's support that later pushed Suarez to victory in the mayoral playoffs!
Which raises the obvious question: Is there really much difference between a brain-dead voter and a physically dead voter?
Consider: Miami has spent a year reeling from a bribery scandal and teetering on the brink of fiscal ruin. Nobody in their right minds would, amid such turmoil, willingly put the city's fragile budget within reach of an accused swindler—yet that's exactly what living, breathing voters did.
It's a persuasive argument for throwing elections open to everyone, regardless of pulse rate.
Usually when ballots of long-dead residents turn up, forgery is the presumed explanation. I'm not sure that's automatically true in a place as occult as Miami.
Here it's remotely possible that some dead citizens are so appalled by what's happening that they supernaturally find a way to vote from the afterlife, if we give them a chance.
And maybe we should, because I'll bet there aren't 6,063 dead people who would have been caught … well, dead voting for a guy like Humberto Hernandez.
Admittedly, the plan has a few problems. Since deceased persons would by necessity use absentee ballots—they are, after all, the ultimate absentees—the possibility of fraud cannot be ignored. (Perhaps signatures could be checked against those on their Last Wills and Testaments.)
Political purists might contend that even if the dead would vote, they aren't as constitutionally qualified as live people. That position is hard to defend, given what happened here at the polls.
Turnout among living voters was so disgracefully low that participation by the deceased should be welcomed. And no voter is less susceptible than a dead one to a politician's grandiose promises, smear campaigns or cheap scare tactics.
Which brings us to the late Manuel Yip. Perhaps his name was, as alleged, forged on that absentee ballot. But suppose it was the real deal. What if it was an impassioned voice from The Beyond, a voice of conscience pleading: "What are you bozos doing to my city?"
Miami politics has caused lots of good, decent folks to roll over in their graves. Next time, let them cast a ballot. At this point, what could it hurt?
Miami Voters' create new kind of open election
December 14, 1997
Miami's election scandal has taken an intriguing twist, with the revelation that scores of people who "voted" on Nov. 4 don't even live in the city.
Some didn't know they'd voted at all.
Investigators call it fraud, but there's a more positive interpretation. Think of Miami elections as the ultimate in participatory democracy, accessible to anyone—living, dead, residents, nonresidents … even those who don't particularly want to participate.
It might be crooked, but it's also an ingenious remedy for the problem of low voter turnout.
If authorities allow the results of last month's election to stand, we could soon see a day when Miami boasts more registered voters than live human beings—a democracy flush beyond the wildest dreams of Jefferson or Paine.
Many of Miami's questionable ballots were filed in support of Commissioner Humberto ("I'll Take the Fifth") Hernandez and Mayor-to-be Xavier ("I'm Not Deranged!") Suarez.
When the scandal broke, Suarez appointed none other than Hernandez to counter-investigate the state's investigation. This was highly humorous for two reasons:
1) Hernandez is awaiting trial for alleged bank fraud and money laundering.
2) His own campaign manager, Jorge Luis De Goti, figures largely in one of the city's most dubious voting patterns.
Records show several "voters" switching their registrations to addresses in Hernandez's district, just in time for the election. At least nine of those supporters registered at homes owned or occupied by family of De Goti.
When reporters tried to find some of the new Hernandez voters, they found them dwelling at other locations, miles outside the city. (Hernandez himself said he'd never condone such a thing.)
Equally peculiar were absentee ballots filed on behalf of Francisca Brice, Cipriano Alvarez and Gloria Alvarez. Since they live in Hialeah and Hialeah Gardens, they hadn't thought about voting in the Miami elections.
They were surprised to find out they had. Their ballots were "witnessed" by 92-year-old Alberto Russi, another campaign worker for you-know-who.
Russi had been arrested for other alleged voter fraud, including signing a ballot for a dead man. Russi said he didn't intentionally do anything illegal on behalf of candidate Hernandez.
Cynics see the unfolding scandal as yet another sleazy chapter of Miami-style corruption. Others might regard it as a historic opportunity to broaden the political process to include those who customarily have been shut out—the dead, distant or otherwise ineligible voter.
A strong democracy depends on citizen involvement, and what was Alberto Russi allegedly doing but striving to involve as many citizens as possible?
Talk about open elections—Miami has a chance to redefine the term. What a bold experiment it would be to unlock the polls not just for the sneaky pals of candidates, but for anyone, anywhere.
Because Miami's image reflects upon that of the whole state, an argument could be made that all Floridians should be entitled to vote here. And because Florida's image reflects upon that of the whole country, a case likewise could be made that all Americans should be able to take part.
Indeed, every U.S. taxpayer has a substantial stake in Miami's future, based on the FBI's investment of time and manpower here.
Theoretically, a ballot cast from Nome, Alaska, is every bit as relevant as a ballot cast from Hialeah Gardens. And with millions of absentee ballots pouring in, it would be hard for our local scammers to steal an election.
The prospect of voting in Miami without actually having to reside here (and constantly worry about commissioners going to prison or the city going bankrupt) could have national appeal. Get registered now!
Or perhaps you already are, and just don't know it.
Strike a blow for democracy: Sell your vote
January 15, 1998
Ten bucks a vote.
That's what some Overtown residents got paid to cast absentee ballots for Xavier Suarez before the Nov. 12 mayoral runoff.
Suarez, who won the election, says neither he nor his campaign staff was involved in any votes-for-cash scheme. Then who was paying off those people in the parking lot of the St. John Baptist Church?
A patriot, that's who! Overzealous perhaps, but still a red-blooded American patriot.
Everybody complains about low voter turnout in Miami but nobody does anything about it. Now, finally, here's a guy who put his money where his mouth was.
Oh sure, we all say we love democracy, but how many of us are willing to dig into our pockets and pay cash for it? How many of us value the electoral process so highly that we'd spend a long hot day rounding up total strangers, then haul them downtown to cast their absentee ballots?
Mayor Suarez should be proud to have a secret supporter who cares enough to make such a financial sacrifice, yet is so modest that he won't come forward to take credit for his bold deeds.