Scamfluencers - Pat Nolan: Here Comes the Bribe | 203

Episode Date: March 2, 2026

In the 1980s, Pat Nolan was one of California’s most powerful conservative lawmakers – pushing to shrink the government and expand the death penalty, while quickly climbing the political ladder. He was ambitious, disciplined…and according to the FBI, dirty. Behind closed doors Pat took illegal campaign donations in a scheme so blatant it became the centerpiece of a sweeping federal sting operation that took down an entire generation of right-wing California politicians. What started as a power grab turned into a full-blown corruption crackdown. But prison wasn’t the end of Pat’s story. Because after his fall, the former tough-on-crime crusader comes out preaching something very different…and pulls off one of the most unexpected rebrands in Scamfluencers history.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Sachi, unfortunately, we have to learn so much about American politics. Well, I mean, I guess you live there. But one thing that is always so confusing to me, the difference between lobbying and straight up bribery. Yeah, the on-paper definition of lobbying sounds like a scam to me, and yet it is not. I mean, I don't really understand where the line is drawn at all. Again, it makes zero sense, but that's politics, baby. Yeah, I've been saying that's politics, baby, about pretty much everything every day for 10 years. So I'll add this to the list.

Yeah, please do. Well, today, I'm going to tell you about a guy who believed so hard in the politics he was pushing. He was shocked to find out that rules apply to him, too. It's the morning of June 29, 1988, and Pat Nolan has just been handed two large checks. Pat is 38 years old, although he looks a bit older. He has a big, round face and wears a kind of 1970s oversized glasses that suggest he might be very intense about model trains. Pat is on the rise. He's a Republican minority leader in the California State Assembly and a high-profile conservative with ambitions for even higher office. Today, Pat is sitting in a hotel suite in Sacramento just across the street from the state capital.

And he's not alone. With him are one of his aides and a couple of big. from a company called Gulf shrimp fisheries. Recently, California's Republican governor vetoed a bill that would have made the shrimp company eligible for a low-interest loan. That's why these businessmen came to Pat. He's influential, and they're hoping he can change a governor's mind. When they asked Pat for help, he told them it would be good for all businesses if there were more Republicans in the Assembly. It's a carefully awarded response, but the implication was clear. Give money to Republicans, and I'll get you what you want.

We're used to quid pro quo politics today, but it's good to remember that this is basically a bribe. That's why the shrimp executives hand pat two checks, each for $5,000, which is nearly $28,000 today. One check is made out to a Republican campaign committee. The other is left blank, meaning Pat can do whatever he wants with it. Oh, I'm so excited for this story of comparative. conservatively quaint political corruption?

It's so cute. Yeah. Well, Pat doesn't think much of it. After all, he wants more handouts for businesses, so this seems like a no-brainer. But even when he genuinely believes in a bill, he still expects cash in exchange for his support. It's unethical, but it's also pretty common. The only thing that's unusual is how insistent these businessmen have been about meeting with Pat in person. It isn't like Pat and the businessmen have much to talk about.

They offer champagne, but Pat and his aide opt for diet Pepsi instead because it's not even noon yet. They have some awkward small talk, and then Pat takes the checks and leaves. What Pat doesn't know is that these aren't ambitious shrimp executives at all. They're undercover FBI agents, and they've recorded this meeting. And while Pat and his colleagues may see this as everyday politics, it's awful. close to criminal activity. Pat's casual disregard for the law is about to trigger a massive scandal in the California State House and send a number of lawmakers to prison. From Wondery, I'm Sarah Hagee. And I'm Sachi Cole. And this is scamfluencers.

Pat Nolan wasn't just another Republican lawmaker. He was one of the most influential conservatives in California and a pioneer of the more aggressive, theatrical, style of politics in the GOP that we see today. He pushed to shrink the government, expand the death penalty, and once protested the KKK for being too socialist. But like so many politicians, undone by ambition, Pat's pursuit of power became his justification to break the law. His scheme was so blatant, the FBI used it to wipe out an entire generation of right-wing

California lawmakers. But in a true twist, Pat's collision with actual calls. consequences spark something unexpected. A genuine change of heart and one of the most surprising rebrands in scamfluencer's history. This is Pat Nolan. Here Comes the Brib. It's 1950 in Los Angeles and Pat Nolan is born into a large, proud Irish family. He's one of nine kids and together they perform Irish step dancing at festivals and even at Disneyland as a nine dancing. Nolans. Pat grows up in Sugar Hill, a white Catholic neighborhood shaped by racist housing covenants.

But as wealthy black residents begin moving in, Sugar Hill becomes the center of major legal battles over housing discrimination. Pat's parents are pretty conservative, and they're probably not thrilled about these changes. When Pat is eight years old, he gets a paper route to earn some pocket money, but neighborhood kids regularly beat him up and steal his bike. Decades later, at the 2019 Conservative Political Action Committee conference, Pat describes how those experiences shaped him. I'd grown up on Crenshaw Boulevard, and not only myself, all my brothers and sisters, our neighbors, were victims of crime. And so the thinking of the time was, get the bad guys, toss them in prison, and we'll have safer communities. I mean, that's sort of still the thinking, but the question is always,

who are the bad guys and who is considered bad and who gets to say that they're bad. Yeah. And what are the bad guys really doing? Yeah. Well, these early run-ins with neighborhood bullies helped radicalize Pat into a lifetime of conservative political beliefs. And that worldview gets supercharged when Pat and his family moved to the city of Burbank. Burbank sits just north of L.A., and at the time, it's one of the most conservative cities in California. It's the perfect environment for Pat who seems set on a career in Republican politics. In 1960, at just 10 years old, he volunteers for Richard Nixon. Four years later, teenage Pat stumps for the even more conservative Barry Goldwater.

Then comes Ronald Reagan. He even joins Burbank Youth for Reagan. The group isn't just about politics. It's also a networking hub for ambitious young conservatives. Pat's friends at this time include a future member of Congress and a future attorney general. In 1968, Pat enrolls at USC to study political science. But even as a student, Pat is focused on building his political street cred. While college campuses across the country are erupting in protests against the Vietnam War,

Pat goes the other direction. He thinks the protesters are unpatriotic losers. As soon as he enrolls, he helps found USC's chapter of the conservative organization, Young Americans for Freedom. At this time, the general rule of thumb for aspiring politicians is simple. Become a lawyer. So Pat goes straight from undergrad to USC's law school. He graduates in 1975 and starts working at a personal injury law firm. It's decent money, but Pat isn't interested in buying nice things.

He's biding his time and waiting for the chance to do the thing he's been preparing for all his life. Run for office. In 1978, the state assembly member representing Burbank decides to run for lieutenant governor, which means his assembly seat is open. Pat is 27 years old and sees this as his big chance, so he decides to run. The district covers some of the most conservative areas in the state. In fact, for six straight years, voters have consistently elected the furthest right candidate on the ballot. There's a candidate in the race with significant government experience, but he's a moderate.

So Pat doesn't see him as a real threat. Instead, Pat's main competition is Lou Barnett, who markets himself as the conservative choice. Lou is just three years older than Pat. His glasses are a different shape, and his hair has a little less volume, but they share the same. same unsettling nerd vibes. But Lou has a few advantages. He has a lot of experience running conservative campaigns, and he's worked as a legislative analyst for the LA City Council.

The primary is set for June, and the race is tight. Pat raises a good amount of money, but Lou still outpaces him in fundraising. Pat needs an advantage, so he leans hard into one of his side hustles as a reserve deputy sheriff. Technically, deputies are supposed to patrol 16 hours a month, and Pat only patrol sporadically, if at all. But in a law and order district, the badge should give him an edge. I mean, the idea of voting for someone in particular because they have a badge is so embarrassing.

And then the guy's badge is kind of fake anyway. And he isn't even doing any actual cop stuff. Yes, I mean, I guess anything to get you ahead, right? And the defining issue in the race is Proposition 13, a ballot initiative that would slash property taxes statewide and make it extremely difficult to raise them again. Homeowners love it, along with voters who think the government wastes money on, as one supporter put it, quote, loafers and mochers. Critics warn it will gut schools, libraries, and public services, but that's actually a plus for Pat. He wants to reduce the size of government. The problem is, both Pat and Lou support Prop 13.

So, to make himself stand out, Pat sends out mailers claiming he's been endorsed by the man behind Prop 13. This is technically true, but the flyers are intentionally misleading, because that same guy has endorsed every pro-Prop 13 candidate, including Lou. But Pat's deceit doesn't seem to matter much to voters. In June, he easily wins the Republican primary. In that November, he cruises to victory in the general election. He's part of a wave of ultra-conservative lawmakers swept into office by Prop 13. They're so aggressive that Democrats in the State House start calling them the cavemen. Sachi, take a look at this photo of Caveman Pat.

Oh, Jesus. He looks like an SCTV character. He, his face appears to be made of like several butts. Yeah. Don't you think? Like his chin is a butt, his nose is a butt, cheeks are butts, eyes somehow butts. Yeah. And he's got these big old, what's that character from S&L?

Pat? Was it Pat? I know. With the big glasses? Yes. It's like these big. I have glasses like that. I was going to say, I literally have glasses like that.

You can't really talk about big glasses. Well, they're glasses that would look good on me because I only have one butt. Well, the cavemen are ready to transform California, but they're freshman legislators, so their power is pretty limited. So Pat and his allies start scheming about how they can push California to the far right. They hold regular strategy meetings, earning themselves a nickname, The Monday Lunch Bunch. And within months, their plotting pays off.

In May of 1979, the cavemen band together and push out the assembly's minority leader. In the shake-up, Pat is elected caucus secretary. I'll be honest, Sachi, I'm not entirely sure what the caucus secretary does, but it's a leadership position that gives Pat more control over how Republicans vote. Even outside observers can tell he's a rising star. Can you read this quote from the reporter who coined the Monday Lunch Bunch Bunch nickname? Yeah, they said, I'm not suggesting to you that Patrick James Nolan is bad or good or irrelevant for California or that he is a future governor. But I think you should know that his time is coming.

Oh, God, that's so ominous. That doesn't make me feel safe. I know, it's like a plague that is coming and you can't do anything to stop it. For almost 20 years, Pat's hyper-conservative politics were on the margins. But now, the political tide is turning. A right-leaning movement is gaining momentum. Soon, he'll rise even higher and set the template for the modern Republican Party.

It's September 1981, and Pat is in Sacramento. He's at a local restaurant that's popular with state legislators, partly because they keep everyone's photos on the wall, which probably makes him feel special. Pat and a couple of his colleagues are here tonight for one purpose, to tear one of those photos off the wall, wall and literally stomp on it. You might think Pat is doing this to insult a Democrat, but the man in the photo is actually

a fellow Republican. He voted with Democrats to approve new election districts, which will make it easier for Democrats to win in the future. State legislators typically redraw election districts after each census when they have updated information about the population. If you've heard of gerrymandering, it's when one party draws oddly shaped districts to maximize their own chances of winning elections. This new map, drawn after the 1980 census, tilts California toward Democrats for years to come,

so it's more of a betrayal than any individual bill. Pat is already hyper-focused on the next census, even though it won't happen until 1990, almost 10 years away. He wants to make sure Republicans control the assembly next time, so they can create a map that gerrymanders California into a much more republic. Republican state, possibly forever. In order to pull this off, Pat will do almost anything, including working with Democrats. I guess I knew that there were a lot of politicians willing to, you know, work with, I guess, the other side, as they say, but kind of with the intention of destroying them ultimately.

And it is so stupid and embarrassing to hear it laid out so simply. Yeah, I mean, it shows that it's kind of just a game to them. it's not really about improving anyone's life. And about a year ago, he and several other Republicans agreed to support Liberal Assembly member Willie Brown for Speaker. This might seem odd since Willie is a champion of the civil rights movement and a supporter of LGBT rights. But Willie needed Republican support,

so in exchange, he agreed to limit the power of the Speaker's Office and reward Pat with influential committee assigned. Pat was thrilled. In an interview with the LA Times, he said, quote, I think we'll be able to implement the conservative philosophy much better. I think you're going to see Pat Nolan on very good committees. And yes, Pat was referring to himself in the third person. By now, Pat has been in the legislature for over two years

and his theatrical style has taken over the conservative movement. He pushes bills that are extremely unlike. to pass, but allow him to grandstand, and he's willing to be outlandish and confrontational to get attention. At one point, Pat hands out pins with liberal assembly member Maxine Waters' face on them that read, Maxine for Shaw. Another time, he claims that a Democrat is running a kangaroo committee and yells at his colleague, quote, you've got a pouch in your belly to prove you're a kangaroo. What a fun, cool guy. This is the kind of. decency that I wish politics could return to, Sarah.

Yeah, same. Honestly, he's pretty normal by today's standards. Yeah, what's the problem? Did he wave a gun at anybody yet? Well, Pat is positioning himself as an outsider, but behind the scenes, he's mastering politics as usual. He understands that winning elections costs money, so he starts meticulously tracking how much cash he gets in exchange for supporting specific bills.

It doesn't matter if he was already. planning to support the bill, the expectation is that everyone needs to donate no matter what. It's the best way to make sure his war chest is as big as possible. Sure, that might mean he's walking up to the line of committing outright bribery, but who cares? Soon, Pat becomes known as one of the best fundraisers in the assembly. But it's not just about raising money. It's about finding ways to destroy his opponents. At one point, he tries to weaponize the FBI telling agents that Willie Brown is pressuring Democrats to milk lobbyists for cash, which is exactly the same thing Pat is doing.

But it seems like he feels the ends justify the very shady means. We've talked about other lobbyists on this show like Jack Abramoff who offered politicians things like expensive trips and tickets to sporting events in exchange for their support. But Pat doesn't seem to care about any of that stuff. He lives alone in a condo close to the capital. He's rarely home, and he doesn't seem to have expensive tastes. One colleague tells a reporter that, quote, he does very little in his off hours besides politics. It's an all-consuming thing in Pat's life.

Pat's passionate about conservative values. But he's convinced there's only one way for those values to win, giving him more power. In 1983, Pat decides he should be the Republican minority leader in the Assembly. This is a pretty big job. Remember how Mitch McConnell was able to block Supreme Court nominees and basically slow the government to a halt when he was a minority leader in the Senate? It's kind of like that, but on a smaller scale.

Only Republican lawmakers get to vote on this position, and while Pat is pretty popular with his peers, he falls one vote short, so he tries again the following year. And once again, he's willing to get creative in order to win. At the beginning of 1984, Pat speaks at an event commemorating a bill he sponsored and is introduced as a, quote,

highly decorated combat veteran, which he isn't. The mistake is understandable since Pat tells people he's a Marine and claims membership in veterans groups. One question about it, Pat tells the LA Times, quote, It was a mistake. I never served in Vietnam.

I was a Marine, but I didn't go to Vietnam. But Sachi, this is also a lie. In reality, Pat spent just nine days in the Marine Training Corps before being discharged for a knee injury. King loser. Yeah. All of these guys are always lying about this stuff. Like, it's always military service that they're just,

ripping out of their butts. Bone spurs. It's just such a crazy, easily disprovable lie that is insane in such an intense time when this really does matter. But again,

none of these lies seem to bother voters. In November of 1984, Pat is reelected with almost 70% of the vote. And by now, he's so popular with his Republican colleagues

that the current minority leader willingly stepped down to avoid losing an election. That December, Pat becomes the minority leader. This is a pivotal moment for him. Now, Pat is officially one of the most powerful Republicans in the state. Almost immediately, his staffers fire everyone, change the locks, and watch the outgoing staff clear out their desks to make sure there's no funny business. This marks the dawn of a new Republican Party in California.

one that caters to the loudest people who are willing to go the furthest to the right. And at least for now, this means Pat. The press eats it up. One profile notes that Pat keeps a statue of John Wayne on his desk, goes wild boar hunting, and loves a movie Terms of Endearment. Which, same. I mean, he's still a human being. I'd be disturbed if he didn't.

That's not significant. Yeah, but, you know, shows he's got a bit of a heart. Okay. All right, relax. Pat is on top of the world, flush with cash, attention, and influence. But voters aren't the only ones watching anymore. As Pat becomes one of the most visible figures in California politics, another party starts to take interest in how he gets things done, the FBI.

In October 1985, an FBI agent, James Weddick, is sitting in the Sacramento field office waiting for a call from headquarters. He's about to find out whether his bosses will give him money to start a fake shrimp company. James is 35 years old and he's a consummate G-man,

tall, thin, and severe with thick black hair and a mustache. He's wanted to be an FBI agent ever since he was a kid growing up in the Bronx. When he was 14, he actually wrote to the FBI asking how he could work there. Whoever received his left,

misread it somehow and tried to connect the boy with a recruiter. He explained the mistake and had to wait a couple of years before finally joining the Bureau. More than a decade into the job, James' career is looking pretty solid. He started out working bank robberies, then moved into white collar and political crimes. He even went undercover to help catch Phil Kitzer we featured in a previous episode. By now, James has developed a reputation for being a bit obsessive. Sachi, can you read what a defense attorney later says about him?

Yeah, they said, he's a very aggressive agent. I think his greatest strength is his greatest failing. He's so dogged in his pursuit of the truth that anything that doesn't fit his view must be a lie. All right, well, you know what? It seems like it takes one to no one, and it will require someone who's like Pat to stop Pat. Yeah, yeah, that actually works out.

It all comes out on the wash. Well, a couple of years ago in 1982, James got thrown a bone and hasn't let go of it since. A Sacramento lobbyist, disgusted by the sleazy practices he saw, became a cooperating witness, and told James that their state lawmakers could be bought for a price. For James, this is personal. When he was growing up in New York, he was still recovering from the notoriously corrupt Tammany Hall era, when politics basically ran on favors for party bosses. Now, he has a chance to weed out that same corruption in California.

For the next three years, he works tirelessly out of a 12-by-12 windowless office that his colleagues jokingly refer to as the pit. But catching corrupt politicians isn't an easy assignment. The FBI is automatically notified when a bank robbery happens, but when a lobbyist successfully bribes a politician, they want to keep quiet. No one whose career is built on bribery wants to admit it. Eventually, James and one of his colleagues come up with a plan.

If lobbyists won't come to the FBI, the FBI will become lobbyists. Classic Mrs. Doubtfire situation. He and his colleagues invent a fake business called Gulf Shrimp Fisheries. Undercover FBI agents, including James, pretend to be executives who want to build a shrimp processing plant in California, but they need a government loan to do it. And while California does have low-interest loans for businesses,

golf shrimp is too small to qualify. So James helps write a bill creating a very specific exception, one so specific that only Gulf shrimp can qualify for it. This ensures the company is the only one lobbying for it. Lots of people at the FBI are skeptical of the idea. It's expensive and they're worried about federal investigators getting involved in state politics. But James believes in it. And today, sitting in the pit, he gets some good news.

The Justice Department has approved his sting operation. He's given $100,000, about $300,000 today, specifically to use as bribes. Sure, the Bureau was skeptical at first, but, But they're impressed by his ability to enact undercover operations. James doesn't have his eye on any specific politicians yet, but he's excited to scoop up anyone corrupt enough to accept his fake bribes. He doesn't know yet which politicians will take the bait, but he's ready to find out. James heads off to the races with his shrimp company.

And when he's done, Pat is going to end up on the grill. I feel like I like to. In 1986, Pat marries a woman named Gail. We haven't talked much about Pat's personal life, and that's because by most accounts, he doesn't have one. But Gail fits neatly into Pat's conservative political image. She's a blonde marketing specialist from deeply conservative Orange County, a former competitive swimmer,

and was once a finalist in a sort of Disneyland-specific beauty. pageant. They make sense as a pair, and having a family can only help Pat's image. The wedding doesn't put much of a strain on Pat's wallet. Grocery and seafood companies provided several thousand dollars worth of catering for the event, and the honeymoon is even easier. A businessman trying to get a special state permit offers the newlyweds the use of a condo in Hawaii. But to Pat, his Sneptuals are secondary to the biggest event of that year, the midterm elections. This is a crucial chance for Pat to win more Republican seats in the Assembly, and more importantly, make sure that the candidates who win are loyal to him. Maybe that's why, throughout the 1986 elections, Pat steps up his game.

As minority leader, Pat is involved in every Republican assembly race statewide, and he wants to decide which Republicans. Republicans get in. So he directs more than $700,000 of PAC money, money he and his allies collected from businesses and lobbyists, into open Republican primaries. He's not trying to unseat current assembly members, but he is trying to make sure any newly elected Republicans are loyal to him. As a result, he spends far less time focusing on the general election against Democrats. And this rubs a lot of people the wrong way. Sachi, can you read? read what one of Pat's colleagues tells a reporter. Yeah, they said, so much Republican money has been wasted, and the races have gotten so

nasty that the only thing Democrats will need to fight us in November is a Xerox machine to copy Republican primary mailers. Um, yeah, he's gotten too focused on the scam, and now everybody's mad at him for not doing the actual thing he's there to do. Yeah. And Pat gets creative in helping his candidates win. For example, when he meets with insurgent Republicans, Assembly candidates in California,

he promises he can secure an endorsement from President Ronald Reagan. But then he actually talks to the White House, and he learns that to secure an official endorsement, he needs to follow specific procedures and jump through hoops. Pat is annoyed by all of this unnecessary red tape. And worse, it makes him look weak in front of the candidates he wants as loyal foot soldiers in Sacramento. So Pat comes up with a solution.

Instead of waiting for an endorsement, they can just make it up. At first, his staff sends letters claiming that Reagan has endorsed their candidates. But in late October, Pat gets on a call with staffers and party leaders, and they decide to go bigger. They send out one final letter in November just before the elections. It's written in Reagan's voice, addressed from the White House, and it's completely fake. The letter claims Reagan personally knows in the election. supports one of the Republican Assembly candidates. Sachi, can you read some of the endorsement letter?

Should I do it in a Reagan voice? Just do it normal. Okay, fine. If you believe in the campaign Nancy and I have worked on for the past few years, the campaign to teach our young people to say no to drugs, then you must say no to Dick Floyd on Election Day. Just say no to Dick. Just say no to Dick.

I mean, yeah, I guess it sounds like him. It sounds like any president. It's incredibly shady, and it doesn't even work. The Democrats win by 10 points. Amazingly, even the winner believes Reagan endorsed his competition. At his victory party, he tells the crowd, I beat the president of the United States. Pat gets caught pretty quickly.

Some of the letters can't be delivered, so they're sent back to the return address, the White House. On top of that, the Democrat makes so much noise about the letter that reporters start digging into it. And pretty soon, they realize it didn't come from Reagan. At first, Pat claims everything was approved, but some overly enthusiastic consultants made some changes to the standard endorsement letter by mistake.

But then, the White House starts their own inquiry, which could put Pat in hot water with Reagan, the leader of the party, and someone Pat has supported for years. Still, Pat and his allies seem convinced that they can do whatever they want, as long as it advances their political goals. This little hiccup won't stop them.

And that confidence is about to lead them straight into a trap. In September 1987, and Agent James is rushing to make his office look as disgusting as possible. He and his colleagues place empty pizza boxes and extinguished cigarettes all around the room. None of them have shaved in days. The agents are putting on a show for the man who's about to walk in. John Chehabian.

John is a big mustachioed guy who works for a Democratic state senator in California. He thinks he's here for a meeting with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to discuss the shrimp bill. But actually, James is trying to recruit him into joining their sting operation. The agents put surveillance photos of John up on the wall and play audio from secretly recorded conversations to make it seem like they've been tracking his every move. But the FBI is bluffing. They have just enough evidence to make it look like they have John dead to rights, and they're hoping they can scare him into cooperating.

This feels like a kind of clunky move. Yeah, I mean, it's also just kind of like dishonest. Yes, it's plainly dishonest, but as a tactic to get, like, him to switch sides or to confess to something or to work with him, it just feels a little clumsy. for sure, but James is desperate. He's had approval for this sting for almost two years, but it hasn't been going well. The fake shrimp businessmen have tried to get meetings with legislators, but their staffers are one step ahead and actively planning around the possibility of federal informants.

And the FBI hasn't been exactly flawless. Their main informant once chose not to change the batteries in his FBI pager because he didn't want to waste government money. Another time, agents almost submitted a draft of their bill with Department of Justice watermarks still on it. This is like Looney Tunes police work. Like if Elmer Fudd was leading a fraud investigation. I don't trust him with this. Yes, but despite all the missteps, the FBI managed to pay out about $60,000 in bribes to legislators last year. Now, they finally have enough evidence to indict a few people, including John.

But they're hoping John will flip and help them catch even bigger fish. James and his colleagues interrogate John for over 14 hours and threaten him with 20 years in prison if he doesn't talk. Finally, John gives in and agrees to cooperate. Over the next several months, John connects the fake shrimp businessman with power brokers in Sacramento. Soon enough, they collect more evidence of corruption, but their operation is too successful. The shrimp bill passes a few months later. It even gets votes from legislators who aren't getting bribed. The governor vetoes it after being tipped off by the FBI,

so the bill still has one more obstacle to overcome. And there is one legislator who might be able to convince the governor to change his mind for a price. Someone who is known for raising lots of money, has a ton of power, and loves to puff himself up. Assembly minority leader Pat Nolan. The FBI agents set their sights on getting a meeting with Pat. And once they do, they'll set the stage for the downfall

of one of the most powerful people in California politics. It's August of 1988 and Corinne Watson is in the hot seat. We don't know exactly where she's being questioned, but it's possible she's in the same cigarette and pizza-filled room John was in. because the FBI is confronting her about the checks she and Pat took from the undercover shrimp agents. Corinne is in her early 40s with a distinctly Swedish look and a blonde bullcut. If she wasn't in politics, she could have passed as a member of Abba. Like Pat, she's a committed conservative with an eye for how money drives politics.

So it makes sense that she works as a special legislative assistant for him, specializing in agriculture. That's why the shrimp bill fell into her lap. Karen isn't shocked by the FBI investigation. After all, she helps move tons of money and she's seen how ruthless Pat can be. When lobbyists ask Pat for help, she will often tell them he supports the bill, but other Republican legislators, like say the chair of an influential committee, are concerned the lobbyist hasn't given enough money to fund the party's priorities. In order to assuage the concerns of these other guys,

the lobbyist needs to pony up to PACs and other parts of the Republican campaign war chest. Karen knows this is sketchy, but it seems like she's accepted, this is just the way things work. As she later testifies, her job involves making sure her work supporting bills, quote, pays off financially. That's how she found herself in that hotel room with Pat at the beginning of our episode, accepting checks from the shrimp executives. You know, I can appreciate that the system is so whack

that you don't even really know when it's actually illegal. And you're just going with the flow because that's like kind of how things work. Like there's a lot of things in politics that get explained away like that. Yeah, and it seems like anyone's just making up whatever rule. But now, over a month later, Karin is in a much less pleasant room under interrogation. She spends six hours with James and his fellow agents. And like a skilled operator, Corinne hedges her bets.

She refuses to admit to any wrongdoing and doesn't say anything about Pat's activity. But she does agree to cooperate by allowing them to search her office. This seems magnanimous of Corinne, but it's just a formality. The agents already have warrants. Later that night, agents raid Pat's office and the offices of several other lawmakers and spend all night combing through papers. Soon after, James comes back to Corinne, who makes the difficult decision to cooperate with the authorities. And now, Pat will have to fight for his life in the court of public opinion.

It's just a few weeks after the raid, and Pat is a little distracted. His wife is giving birth to their first child. He's delighted, but the baby is also just another person demanding. his attention. Before the raid, Pat thought the forged Reagan letter was his biggest problem. He pressured his staffers to lie to the White House, and for a moment, they were able to shift the blame onto some overzealous aides. But he's just traded one scandal for another. Pat doesn't think he's done anything wrong. To him, the ends justify the means. But he knows a PR scandal when he sees one. So in the weeks after the raid, Pat tries to make

everything look above board. He returns sketchy payments and belatedly discloses others. It doesn't work. In November, Pat steps down as minority leader, partly because he's making Republicans look bad and partly because some members of the caucus complain that Pat is now too close to the establishment. At 38 years old, a decade after first getting elected,

Pat is back to being just another assembly member. right where he started. A year earlier, the Wall Street Journal had included him on a list of potential national political stars for the year 2000. Now, he's just trying to save his job. A couple of months later, in February 1989, one of Pat's allies is indicted for his role in the Reagan forgery. But Pat gets off Scott Free. Prosecutors say there isn't enough evidence to go up against someone as powerful as him. Yeah, I bet.

It's insane. The idea that someone is so powerful and so evil, therefore you cannot go after them, is causing me psychic damage. Like, I know that that is a justification used often, but again, this is a story that just keeps laying. It keeps saying the quiet part loud, and then I am for some reason not expected to go crazy. Yes, of course. I mean, it is insane that it's just like, yeah, it's too powerful. Sorry. The FBI's investigation runs for another five years.

Pat actually wins several more elections during this time and has two more kids. The voters don't seem to care about his potential legal trouble. Finally, in 1993, Pat is charged with six counts, including racketeering and extortion. He's one of 12 legislators swept up in James' investigation, an earthquake that changes the landscape in Sacramento. and he knows his former aide, Corinne, is cooperating with authorities. So eventually, Pat decides it's not worth fighting the charges. If he loses in court, he might not be out of prison until his kids are grown.

Plus, the crimes he's been charged with all have mandatory minimum sentences, thanks to the type of legislation that Pat often supported. Pat pleads guilty to one felony count of racketeering in exchange for a prison sentence of 33 months. And of course, he resigns his seat. For Pat, this is probably the most brutal part of the whole ordeal. Politics was everything.

Now, he's on the outs, thanks to the FBI. Later, Pat describes this as the moment he lost faith in law enforcement. If they could go after him, they could go after anyone. Yeah, if they could go after him for actually doing something wrong, what can't they do?

Yeah, that is... The point of law enforcement. Well, it should be. In March of 1994, Pat gets sent to the Federal Correctional Institute in Dublin, California. It's the same prison that passed scamfluencer subject Michael Milken served time in. This might sound like the end of Pat's story, but his time in prison will actually inspire him to get back into politics because Pat is about to experience something truly radicalizing.

facing consequences for his actions. To put it lightly, Pat's experience in prison is transformative. Later, he describes prison as a, quote, boiling cauldron of anger, hatred, bitterness, and sexual repression. He experiences firsthand how dehumanizing incarceration can be. During the first year of his sentence, Pat is chosen to run the prison law library. only to discover the books are all about cases on the East Coast. That means they're useless to inmates in a California prison

who want to learn about their own legal rights. When the head of the Bureau of Prisons comes to visit, on the type of tour Pat used to take as a lawmaker, Pat watches prison officials install a coffee urn that doesn't work, plant new trees that quickly wither and die, and hand out new uniforms that get taken back as soon as the visit is over. Eventually, his frustration with how he and his fellow inmates are treated inspires him to take up a new political cause.

In 1994, while he's still incarcerated, he writes an essay for the California Political Review criticizing President Bill Clinton's crime legislation, which is poised to massively expand American prisons. Pat argues that conservatives, who theoretically distrust big bureaucracies, should not put their faith in the criminal legal system. Sachi, can you read an excerpt from his essay? Yeah, I bet it's going to make me mad. He wrote,

A substantial portion of the men with me are here for bureaucratic crimes arising from disputes with government employees over billing procedures or other violations of statutes that are technical in nature. It came as quite a shock to me to learn that our judicial and penal systems are just like every other bureaucracy.

You know what? I'm glad he figured it out. I'm so glad he figured it out. he put it together. There's just something offensive about somebody realizing an objective truth about how the country works that the rest of us understand

and the only way for him to get it is like by being fully impacted by it. Yeah, it's embarrassing. Yeah, it is really embarrassing. And Pat's worldview is still grounded in conservative principles, but it starts leading him to some very different positions.

For example, he begins criticizing the sentencing disparity between crack and powdered cocaine. They're essentially the same drug, but are punished differently because crack is often associated with black criminals while powdered cocaine feels just a little more Wall Street. It's an issue where Pat gets to oppose a policy

that's both an arbitrary abuse of legal power and racially biased. In April 1996, 45-year-old Pat is released from prison as a permanently changed man. And while he'll never hold elected office again, he's found a new way back into the halls of power, advocating for mercy for everyone still on the inside.

It's May 2007, and Pat is back in Sacramento. This time, he's not here to advance his own political career. Instead, he's talking to Republican lawmakers about his new calling, prison reform. Shortly after his release, Pat was hired as the President of Justice Fellowship. The organization was founded by Chuck. Coulson, a former Nixon aide who also did time in federal prison, Justice Fellowship promotes criminal justice reform rooted in Christian conservative values like mercy and dignity. For most of his career, Pat fused conservative values with limitless ambition.

But now, he seems motivated by something closer to conviction. In the closed-door meetings, Pat tells current members of the legislature that, during his decade-plus in office, he was wrong about incarceration. He urges them to create policies that help people lead more dignified lives in prison so they can actually be rehabilitated. And he tells them that once inmates have been released, they need more support. Yes, that is true. And again, I'm glad he figured it out. I mean, I need to know more details about how much I believe this is true, but, you know, better than before. It's an improvement. Yeah. Pat's advocacy does seem to produce results. He's involved in passing several prison reform

bills, including efforts to expand rehabilitation programs, reduce unfair sentences, and eliminate sexual assault in prisons. He says he's probably the only convicted felon to participate in four bill signings at the White House, and he might be right, at least about the convicted part. In 2019, Pat is a speaker at the Conservative Political Action Committee Conference, a major gathering for the conservative movement. By now, Pat is almost 70 years old. He goes through his usual talking points about compassion for incarcerated people. But he also defends a shrimp bribe that put him in prison, calling it a good bill, and that, quote, I never accepted a contribution while it was still pending for my vote. But this is a little disingenuous, since the whole point

of the payment was that Gulf Shrimp Fisheries wanted him to undo the governor's veto. Pat also tells a crowd he should have anticipated his arrest, since, according to him, Democrats use law enforcement to go after Republicans all the time. And it seems like this comment reaches the right audience, because a few months later, in May 2019, President Donald Trump pardons Pat. Of course, Pat is happy about the news,

but to his credit, he tries to keep the focus on the issue he's championed for decades. Sachi, can you read what? he tells the LA Times after he's pardoned? Yeah, he says, quote, actually, I'm really hopeful that the president will issue many more pardons. There are a lot of other people that are incarcerated who would be better off at home with their family. Again, true. That said, am I going to trust this particular president to do it? Probably not. Yeah, I agree. Pat spent his political career spouting tough on crime talking rhetoric, and he spent the decades since fighting

to move the Republican Party away from cruelty and toward a more humane prison system. But if there was ever a moment when the party might follow Pat's example, it's long gone. Today, Pat's criminal justice reform think tank barely exists online, and its website links redirect to donation pages for CPAC. Still, Pat won't be the last Republican to engage in soul-searching after being incarcerated. In October 2025, former scamfluencer's subject George Santos was released from prison.

The next day, he told reporters he wanted to start advocating for prison reform. You know, I always love when we get to talk about someone that I honestly would have never heard of otherwise. But in some ways, it does suck to know about someone you who sucks. Yeah. Who's influenced so much of how bad. everything is. Yeah, I'm sure I'm supposed to be delighted by his heel turn, but I'm not. I find it really craven and simple and boring. I feel like we're seeing it a lot right now with ice raids where you're seeing people who generally are in support of really aggressive anti-immigration tactics

are now saying things like, oh, this isn't what I voted for and this isn't what I wanted. And this story kind of smacks to that where it's like, well, I didn't hear you complaining too hard when it was working in your favor. Exactly. And it's just so gross that it's like, you know, the lack of curiosity these people have for the things they are supporting and the lives they're ruining

until, you know, it kind of touches them in some small way. And I don't know, I just don't really buy it at all. Yeah. I mean, it's not even about buying it. Like, I'm sure it is a legitimate about face. I'm sure it is a change of heart,

but I just find it lame that it's, require so much personal experience. Yeah, I think it just kind of shows also how far removed politicians and people in these positions are from anything that's happening in real life. Yeah, I mean, the tough thing about like what Pat now feels about the prison system is that it's still divested from like the rest of the ecosystem that allows it to happen. Yeah. His argument is like, the jails need to be nicer and people shouldn't go to prison for these bureaucratic reasons and then they need support when they're out. But he is still kind of playing a game of us versus them.

Like the argument that there are people who deserve it. Yeah. And it's like, okay, well then let's unpack that. How do you decide who deserves it? How do you decide? Who is we? Who is they? Who gets to decide who we is and who they is?

I guess what's frustrating about this story is it's somebody who has dedicated their life to like creating barriers to these, you know, socialist programs that would, for example, prevent people from going to jail for clerical errors or actual crime or, you know, whatever it is. And they obviously won't support that until they get in trouble. And then all of a sudden it's about like, hey, we need social services for, you know, formerly incarcerated people. And we shouldn't judge people off of their records. And, you know, all of a sudden, this very, like, warm, squishy socialist hellscape language gets co-opted for their benefit. Do you feel like you learned anything today? This is a weird one to learn from.

I think the lesson is the same lesson as always. When we deal with politics or politicians, you can't trust them. Mm-hmm. A wise man once said he calls it politrix and not politics. Okay, all right. And that man was pit bull. Yeah. And really, at the end of the day, it's all politrics, baby.

Do you agree? If I say yes, will you let me out of this bunker? Maybe. I don't know. What do you have to offer me? This is Pat Nolan. Here comes the bribe. I'm Sarah Hagee. And I'm Sachi Cole. If you have a tip for us on a story that you think we should cover, please email us at scamplencers at Wendry.com. We use many sources in our research. A few that were particularly helpful were

the G-Man, the shrimp scam, and Sacramento's Big Sting by Mark Gladstone and Paul Jacobs for the Los Angeles Times. Rising Star Tarnished and Raid. GOP's Nolan and Struggle. for his political survival by Paul Jacobs for the Los Angeles Times, and Prison Revolt by Bill Keller for the New Yorker. Eric Thurm wrote this episode, additional writing by us, Satchie Cole and Sarah Hagee. Olivia Briley is our story editor. Fact-checking by Gabrielle Jolet.

Sound design by James Morgan. Additional audio assistance provided by Augustine Lim. Our music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frieson Sink. Our managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Janine Cornelow and Stephanie Jens are our development producers. Our associate producer is Charlotte Miller. Our senior producers are Sarah Eni and Jenny Bloom. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis for Wondery.