Lots of conservatives talk a good game about how citizens should resist federal control and devolve power to local governments. Few of them are willing to put their convictions into action in quite the same way that Sheriff Joe Arpaio is.
The man who calls himself "America's toughest sheriff" was already in trouble with Uncle Sam, on trial for contempt of court in a U.S. district court. It was only once that was under way that Arpaio and his lawyer apparently had the idea to sic a private investigator on the wife of the federal judge hearing his case. That shows toughness. It shows a willingness to use unorthodox tactics to resist federal interference. It's also not especially bright.
Reporters in the courtroom describe a somewhat shocking scene. Lawyers had completed their questioning when Judge Murray Snow announced he had some questions for Arpaio. After a series of queries, Snow asked: "Are you aware that I've been investigated by anyone?"
The sheriff then admitted that his former attorney had hired the private investigator to look into a tipster's allegation that Snow's wife had told someone at a restaurant that Snow wanted to prevent Arpaio from being reelected. Arpaio's amazing rationalization: "We weren't investigating you. We were investigating some comments that came to our attention."
The sheriff was on trial for, well, thumbing his nose at the federal government. In 2011, Judge Murray Snow issued a ruling demanding that Arpaio stop anti-immigration patrols arresting people solely on suspicion of being in the country illegally, while Snow continued to consider whether they constituted illegal racial profiling. (In 2013, Snow finally ruled that they did, forcing Arpaio to drop the patrols permanently.) Arpaio simply disregarded the order for 18 months—as he now acknowledges. The question is whether that was intentional or not; if the judge decides it's the former, he could find Arpaio in contempt. The sheriff's somewhat improbable explanation is that he simply didn't realize that a federal judge had issued the order.
"I have a deep respect for the courts," Arpaio said. "It really hurts me after 55 years to be in this position. I want to apologize to the judge. I should have known more about these court orders that slipped through the cracks."
There are two problems with that. One is that a deputy testified this week that Arpaio had personally instructed him to continue enforcing federal immigration laws, in defiance of the judge's order. The second is that hiring a PI to investigate the judge who's considering whether you're in contempt of court isn't what most people would consider deep respect.
"It is contemptuous behavior on its face," a former U.S. attorney told The Arizona Republic. "And it is information deserving of further investigation to determine if other criminal misconduct occurred here."
Intimidating or trying to improperly influence a federal judge is in fact a crime. But this isn't the first time Arpaio has pulled a stunt like this—and in fact, he has a long history of launching investigations into political opponents. In 2012, a federal grand jury concluded a three-year investigation into abuse-of-power allegations without charging Arpaio.
The U.S. Department of Justice also has a civil-rights lawsuit pending against the sheriff accusing him of retaliating against critics. In a bizarre Spy vs. Spy moment, Arpaio also admitted to Snow that he had used county funds in 2013 to launch an investigation into ... the Justice Department. Elsewhere during the questioning, Arpaio "conced[ed] that the agency employed unreliable informants, private investigators and an unknown amount of public funds to investigate Arpaio's political enemies," as the Republic put it.
Arpaio's current attorney pushed back on the big revelation after the hearing, telling reporters: "These been no evidence that the sheriff ordered the judge's wife to be investigated." But his client's use of the first-person plural ("we were investigating some comments that came to our attention") would seem to contradict that.
Courts have already found that Arpaio violated the law, and there's no longer any question that other aspects of his behavior—even those not yet adjudicated for legality—are outlandish. The law isn't especially conflicted on many of the issues about which he's outspoken. The federal government has authority to enforce immigration laws; Arpaio's racial profiling was unlawful; intimidating a judge, if that's what he's found to be doing, is unlawful too; and yes, Barack Obama was born in the United States.
But there's a conflict between rule of law and rule of the people, and between the federal government and local authority. Arpaio has won six elections, never by less than six points. The closest was in 2012, when his legal trouble was already underway and well into his ill-advised birther crusade against Obama, but in 2008 he won by a comfortable 13 points. The point is: Maricopa County voters like Arpaio and have kept returning him to office, even as his M.O. has become abundantly clear. Maybe Washington doesn't want him enforcing federal immigration laws, but a majority of Phoenix-area voters apparently do. Besides, not all of the raps on Arpaio have stuck—witness the federal grand jury that didn't charge him (though that may have been mostly because of a challenging burden of proof).
This conflict between federal and local authority, never far from the surface in American history, has seen a resurgence in recent years, as conservative governments—mostly at the state level—have reacted to legislation passed by Democrats and backed by Obama by attempting to nullify or reject federal law. On issues from Obamacare to gun control, state legislators have even tried to write laws that would make enforcing federal statutes illegal. Few of these laws have passed, though, and if they did, they'd have little chance of surviving judicial review.
What's interesting about Arpaio is that unlike lawmakers who have pursued doomed legislative attempts to stop the liberal agenda, the sheriff is fighting back using his own executive authority, mixed with street-fighting moves. And when the federal judiciary has smacked him down, he's simply ratcheted up those efforts.
Perhaps investigating a federal judge's wife will be one step too far and spell his demise. If not, he could run for a seventh time in 2016. There's some precedent for voters punishing anti-federal pols in Arizona—they tossed State Senator Russell Pearce, the major proponent of Arizona's controversial illegal-immigration bill, after he seemed to have gone too far. Don't assume the same rules will apply to Joe Arpaio that apply to everyone else, though—he certainly doesn't think they do.