Gubernatorial stumbles recall Sheehy’s fall

We live in interesting times.

In August, Governor Jim Pillen chose to install an ICE facility in our community without consultation or courtesy, but prior to that, his administration was relatively trouble free and on track for reelection.

Pillen’s most consequential stumble to that time came with his botched handling of line-item vetoes in the state budget in May. Delivered improperly to the Legislature, the vetoes were ruled invalid, leaving lawmakers free to ignore his spending objections. For an administration that has tied its reputation to fiscal responsibility, the error was more than a technicality — it was a moment of real political damage. Not only did the mistake blunt the governor’s effort to control state spending, it raised questions about basic competence in the very office entrusted with Nebraska’s budgetary discipline.

Beyond that, Pllen’s administration has been relatively scandal free--but he had quite a September. What might have been an opportunity for us to forget about his graceless handling of the WEC/ICE transition brought the most disruptive headlines of his tenure: and the implosion of the state’s Liquor Control Commission.

If the veto story was a procedural embarrassment, the Liquor Control Commission scandal has been an outright spectacle. Former executive director Hobert Rupe now faces federal charges of conspiracy, fraud, wire fraud, and even extortion, accused of trading favors for personal gain in strip clubs he was supposed to regulate. The indictment paints a picture of an official who allegedly betrayed both his oath of office and the public trust, allowing licenses to be bent and rules to be ignored.

Governor Pillen moved quickly once the charges surfaced, issuing a sharp statement denouncing the conduct, rejecting a pending rule change that would have loosened personal contact rules in licensed clubs and requesting the resignation of two commissioners. His response was firm, but the damage is done. Nebraskans deserved better oversight long before federal agents were forced to step in.

Yet, even with its lurid details and potential prison terms, the Liquor Control Commission scandal does not reach quite as high — nor does it sting quite as much — as the political collapse that befell the governor’s office a decade earlier.

In 2013, Lieutenant Governor Rick Sheehy, long viewed as a rising star with a possible national trajectory, resigned after it was revealed that he had placed thousands of late-night calls to women other than his wife on a state-issued cell phone. In one weekend, a career that once seemed destined for the highest levels of state and national politics was gone, undone by personal indiscretion and the misuse of public resources. The Sheehy scandal remains the most disappointing chapter in recent state history precisely because of what might have been.

Public service, at its best, is built on trust — trust that rules will be followed, trust that taxpayer dollars will be respected, and trust that officials will hold themselves to standards higher than those they enforce on others. When that trust is violated, whether by negligence, incompetence, corruption or outright disrespect as we have seen here in McCook, it leaves a mark.

We should note that every defendant remains innocent until proven guilty, but let’s also note that Nebraskans are right to expect — and to demand — better.