It’s after 9 pm, and James Carlos Cates has been driving since noon. He should be home by now, and his wife, Larisa, has tried to connect with him several times.  She made it clear in her last message that nothing is wrong at home, but she is worried about him.

His car announces another message from her, and he replies with a curt, “Hold.”  Then, after thinking it through, he announces, “Command: Respond to Lara.  Content: All is well.  Will check in as soon as I am able. Command: Send.”

The filing deadline is today, and Cates is headed to Austin to file his official Intent to Run as an Independent form (along with the signatures of 10,000 registered voters required to secure his place on the ballot).

He’d reached the edge of Austin six hours earlier, but instead of going straight to the Secretary of State’s office (where he wanted to take some pictures to share with his network), he’d turned West just South of town and had been driving along the back roads between Austin and San Marcos – just thinking.

The Secretary of State’s office is now closed, but he can file electronically, as long as his materials are submitted by midnight.

Cates is not frustrated by his wife’s repeated efforts to reach him, but he is a little surprised.  Disappearing for hours when he has a difficult decision to make is part of who he is, and she has gone through similar disappearances with him dozens of times.

She knows well enough the strategy that his father drilled into him: when there is little time left and a deadline to meet, it is wise to move very slowly, making sure that none of the fundamentals have been overlooked.

“If nothing else, moving slowly gives your legs time to warm up before you have to fight,” his father used to say.

Cates recognizes that his wife is more easily spooked the older they get – so is he.  But he rarely acts out of fear, and he is a little frustrated that she won’t give him time to think.

He has until midnight, so he’s taking a few extra hours to think it through. It is Gonzo Garza’s recent phone calls to people at home that are causing Cates’ concern.

His history had been researched by adversaries before. In fact, he’d even had opponents hire private investigators to check his background. They’d never come up with anything more than the suggestion of a homosexual dalliance while he was in college.  But they produced nothing of substance to share with the electorate – no photos, no audio, no video.  All they had was a quote from a faceless accuser with questionable credibility, and his opponents had misjudged how voters would react to the scant evidence the investigators produced.  They had failed to look at the story inside the story – to recognize how many people would connect with the news in one way or another.

But Gonzo’s calls feel more dangerous than a for-hire investigator peddling tawdry gossip.  Gonzo is the Speaker’s brother, and Cates had been talking bad about the Speaker.

“This isn’t an online fight between campaign messengers; this is one of the most powerful people in the state calling my neighbors personally,” Cates thought.

“You are not running against the Speaker,” Cates reminded himself.  “If I am going to run, I need to be focused on how to serve my constituents best. And I sure won’t get elected focusing on anything but that message.”

Cates never came out and shoved someone powerful unnecessarily during his earlier races.  He is off-balance, and he isn’t sure why.

In Cates assessment, it is time to regroup, stop being sloppy (by showing his hand before he needs to show it), or stay off the ballot.

Despite knowing what needs to happen next, Cates can’t stop thinking about a criminal case he had followed closely a year ago: A man shot his neighbors because their dog shit on his lawn one too many times.  In the end, it was difficult to say what had actually happened and who was really at fault, but the neighbors were dead, and that seems like the only part of the story that matters.

If Cates could find just one ally at the statewide level, he could pull the trigger.

Earlier in the day, he had remembered watching Ellie Endsley with Independents Can in series of online debates. He’d been impressed with her.  Doubting that she would respond, he’d messaged her a few of his thoughts.

As he turns back onto Highway 290 heading toward Austin, his car announces a reply from Endsley:

She wrote, “You are not alone,” as if she is in the car and knows just what is holding him back.

Cates pulls to the side of the road and hits send on the filing message that had been drafted and waiting for days.

He’s in.