In a political context, Justin Hill and I are strange bedfellows.
He’s a conservative Republican state representative from Lake Saint Louis. Hill is a fan of the , which awarded him one of its legislator of the year awards. He’s an ex-cop who opposes gun reform legislation. He’s against the Affordable Care Act.
I’m a newspaper columnist, which means President Donald Trump considers me an enemy of the people. I often write in favor of gun reform. I voted for Barack Obama. Twice.
When Hill and I met recently, we shook hands and he agreed to give me a chance.
We were having coffee with one of Hill’s constituents, who has been pushing for state lawmakers to reform the private, for-profit probation business. Hill that requires private probation companies to start using federal drug testing standards. This month he filed a new bill that would prohibit those companies from drug testing defendants in cases that have nothing to do with drugs or alcohol. The bill, if it passes, will go a long way to helping unravel a debtors prison scheme that is working overtime in many rural Missouri counties to keep poor people buried in poverty.
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In many cases, it works like this:
Defendants are charged with a misdemeanor, say stealing under $500. They plead guilty, perhaps with time served from their original arrest because they couldn’t afford bail. The judge orders probation, and almost immediately, the private probation company starts charging them for drug testing. A test turns up positive. Or they can’t make it to an appointment.
Back to jail they go, this time on a probation violation. They come out of jail with a big bill for their room and board.
Rinse. Repeat.
Hill wants to end this practice. As I do, he sees it as a horrible violation of civil rights.
It is but one area of common ground Hill and I have found. Another is this: He has that would force consolidation of multiple police departments in ºüÀêÊÓƵ County. The bill, House Bill 81, would reduce significantly the number of police departments in the county, currently at 60. Many of those departments are small and unaccredited, and, as highlighted in the recently lawsuit filed by ArchCity Defenders against the city of Edmundson, used by city leaders as revenue producers more than beacons of public safety.
Here’s what the national think tank Police Executive Research Forum found in a 2015 study of the county’s police departments, which it called more extremely fragmented than any region the organization had ever studied: “It is a dysfunctional and dangerous situation that cannot be sustained.â€
Hill wants to fix that.
His bill, if history is a guide, could be the first salvo in the attempt to unify a divided ºüÀêÊÓƵ. In Louisville, Ky., before that region’s major urban city and county unified, state lawmakers took away responsibility for public safety from the region’s dozens of municipalities.
The effort to unify ºüÀêÊÓƵ has been funded primarily — though not entirely — by retired financier and philanthropist Rex Sinquefield, the most prolific campaign donor in Missouri. I disagree with Sinquefield on nearly everything, sometimes vehemently, from airport privatization to public school vouchers and dark money in politics. But when it comes to the concept of , so far, at least, I’m on his side, or, more appropriately, on the side of Nancy Rice, who has been leading the effort from day one.
And that’s the point of discussing my relationship with Hill.
In today’s political environment — in part because of the divisive influence of President Trump — relationships and alliances are too often seen as a zero sum game, in both political parties. All too often, one area of disagreement, or a letter that comes after one’s name signifying political affiliation, is all that is necessary to end a conversation or the opportunity for compromise.
There has always been an element of this in politics, but I don’t ever remember the divide being so stark. There have been times, probably, where I have contributed to this environment, and I suspect, Hill has, too.
But recently, we found common ground, even if, at first, it took a leap of faith over the political chasm that separates us. As one of the most divisive years in Missouri and American political history nears its close, I see hope in that.