Don Hill Slides From Mayoral Candidate to Alleged Criminal

Hill promised to extend the revitalization of downtown, which he helped usher in as a council member, to other pockets of the city. Only the prospect of continued economic growth, he told each audience, could ease crime and boost the city's tax base. While the other candidates were immersed in a competition over who could promise to hire the most cops, Hill's message stood out as both pragmatic and honest.

"Mr. Hill, though I like him as a friend, still has a federal indictment hanging over his head, and I do not want to see the city of Dallas embarrassed any further," council member Bill Blaydes told the Dallas Observer during the mayor's race. "It still has not been settled; it may be settled in Don's mind, but not the rest of the world."

Hill and his enterprising staff tried to use his potential criminal problems as an emblem of grit, labeling his bid for the mayor's seat as a "campaign of courage." They even hung that slogan on a billboard outside his office featuring a serious-looking Hill in a suit. The candidate's point was clear: Even though he was the subject of a federal investigation, he still had enough faith to shoot for the highest office in town.

"I think that two years is longer than it took to formally charge Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling," Hill told the Observer during the mayor's race, claiming that his case couldn't possibly be more complex than that of the former Enron executives. "I have taken the approach that I've done nothing wrong or improper or illegal, so at some point in time the government should say there isn't anything and clear my name completely."

Nearly a dozen other candidates widely outspent Hill. They hired expensive consultants, paid for direct-mail advertising and aired slick TV spots. Hill, meanwhile, operated out of a shuttered car dealership in Oak Cliff. A team of volunteers ran his campaign. Still, on Election Day, Hill nearly eased into the runoff, finishing a strong third out of 11 candidates. When Hill conceded on the old car showroom floor, with wife Sheila by his side, many of his friends had tears in their eyes. Hill kept his composure and thanked his mother while his supporters slowly started to trickle out the door.

The two candidates who made the runoff, Tom Leppert and Ed Oakley, immediately scrambled for Hill's endorsement. It was as if they were out of town the day FBI agents searched Hill's offices and uncovered evidence he was driving a car he didn't own. When Hill finally gave his support to Leppert, the two of them held a news conference outside of City Hall. Leppert put his arm on Hill's shoulder and called his former rival his "friend."

The central federal indictment is tough to follow, with a parade of protagonists and shadowy supporting actors crossing paths at City Hill, in tiny offices and, of course, behind a church. It's hard to keep track of who's who, and just when you start to get a feel for where a particular cluster of allegations is headed, a new character is introduced and the story line takes a left turn.

But if there's a leading man in the feds' case, it's Hill, who stars in a series of bribery and extortion rackets. The first has the seasoned council member sidling up to Brian Potashnik, a Highland Park developer of affordable housing. According to the feds, Hill and a man named D'Angelo Lee, Hill's appointee to the City Plan Commission, lent their support to Potashnik's pending project in exchange for cash. Because Potashnik was applying for federal tax credits to fund his apartment complexes in Hill's council district, he had to have Hill's support if he was to ever break ground.

The feds allege that Potashnik and Hill first met in August 2004, which, incidentally, was just three months after the state bar sanctioned Hill. On October 22, 2004, Potashnik and his wife, Cheryl, agreed to a sham consulting contract with Farrington's makeshift company that had the Potashniks making 12 monthly payments of nearly $15,000 to Hill's future wife, according to the indictment. Five days later, Hill voted to approve three Potashnik projects at a city council meeting.

The feds allege that the Potashniks delivered monthly payments to Farrington. She, in turn, funneled money and gifts to Lee and Hill.

Lee allegedly hit on the developer to award additional construction contracts to buddies of Lee and Hill. In turn, the feds say those associates shuffled money back to Farrington, who funneled cash to Hill through another middleman. In one of the few easy-to-follow parts of the indictment, Hill encouraged Lee to keep after Potashnik.