The Founders' Plot

Then, the president called.

“Didn’t you anticipate a problem with the sanctuary ban?” Ballard asked.

“Not this bad. I figured the mayors would scream, but I thought withdrawing state funding would bring them in line.”

Ballard was quiet for a few moments, and Mike could picture him rubbing his chin as he considered what to say.

“You know, Mike, this is drawing a lot more attention than it should. Maybe you should think about amending the law and cutting the sanctuary ban. Or, perhaps let it be known that you won’t strictly enforce it.”

Mike’s forehead furrowed. He hadn’t expected Ballard to say that, and he felt a twinge of anger. “What? I can’t do that. The ban is important. Without it, the law loses some of its teeth.”

“Maybe. But the law would still serve its purpose. Give it some thought.”

Mike sighed. “All right. But I don’t like backing off. It’s a bad loss of face.”

“There are worse things than a loss of face. Think about the big picture. And see if you can come up with a compromise you can all live with.”

Mike hesitated. “Okay, but I’d like to play this out a little before I’m forced to cave.”

“Fine. Stay in touch.”

Mike spent the next day calling sanctuary-city mayors, hoping to defuse the situation enough to at least keep the issue out of the news. The mayors, however, were adamant. They’d fight the ban.

When another week passed with the mayors refusing to budge, Mike thought about what Ballard said. Was his ego more important than everything else? Ballard was right. Maybe it was time to bite the bullet and order some humble pie. Then, he remembered something else the president told him. What was it? Find a compromise?

That wasn’t in his nature. He usually just got his way or got knocked on his ass, which had happened more than once in his career. “If you can find a piece of my butt without scar tissue,” he’d say, “you’re welcome to it.”