Supporting Trevino in his bid against Reyes' handpicked candidate Castillo was state Representative Al Luna and his campaign manager, Marc Campos. Reyes' forces retaliated against Luna by setting up retiring Constable Martinez to run against Luna for the state House. In an exceptionally nasty campaign marked by allegations of drug and alcohol abuse, burglaries of campaign offices and charges from both sides of dirty tricks, Luna easily beat Martinez while Trevino edged Castillo by less than 200 votes.
The alliance did not last long beyond the election. Campos says after his victory, Trevino quickly alienated key county officials whom he needed as allies on future budgetary issues. It's a pattern, Campos says, that continues to this day. He cites a recent legislative deal cut by state Senator Mario Gallegos on contract deputies which resulted in the allocation of additional patrol deputies for poor neighborhoods. Because of cool relations between Gallegos and Trevino, Campos says, the constable was cut out of getting any of those positions.
"I've helped a lot of people get into office and everyone has called for feedback, from [Bob] Lanier to Gallegos to [state Representative] Jessica Farrar," says Campos. "Trevino hasn't. Not even a 'thank you.'"
"Marc knows me," Trevino retorts. "Marc is the type of person who wants to have control and say, 'I want you to hire this guy and hire this guy'. And as long as you do that, like maybe the mayor did, it's okay. When it came to Victor and Victor didn't fall for those things, well, that's it."
Campos says Trevino's posturing masks a mercenary side and suggests the constable's only in it for his $74,199 annual salary.
"Fact of the matter is that Trevino is a constable for monetary reasons. All right? It pays him well. It's the best paying job he's ever had. So that's bullshit."
Trevino's marital partner in crimefighting is every bit a match for her husband in caustic assessments of some Hispanic politicians, particularly the group centered around Ben Reyes and his onetime adversary, Campos. "I think they would sell their souls to the devil if there's an opportunity for them," says Silvia Trevino. "I think that's what it is with all of them."
It's a weekday morning, and Constable Trevino and police officer Trevino are spending some down time nursemaiding their grandson, Thomas Jr. (Son Thomas and his girlfriend live in the garage apartment behind the Trevinos' house in the Eastwood neighborhood.) It's a relaxation day for the constable, who later will make an appearance for a Little League team he sponsors at Finnegan Park. Silvia Trevino will work a patrol shift in the afternoon.
Today's subject is the future, which both Trevinos see as holding more politics for the constable, on a larger scale -- when and if opportunity knocks. But neither plans to tailor the prospective candidate solely for wider acceptability. "More elected officials ought to be like Victor," says his wife. "I think most elected officials are more concerned about getting re-elected or moving on to another position, so they hesitate to take stands or be vocal, outspoken. They hold all that in because they're afraid they'll be looked upon as too vocal, too radical."
Trevino doesn't have that fear, and it may limit his political viability outside Precinct 6.
"I'm a people's candidate," he says, "and I'm going to continue to do that. I'm not going to be a candidate for a politician to have in his pocket. If it means you don't win, so be it."
Trevino's opportunities for advancement are limited at present. The only position on Commissioners Court a Mexican-American could conceivably win would be Jim Fonteno's Precinct 2, which encompasses conservative Anglo strongholds stretching from Pasadena southeast to Galveston Bay. Fonteno's seat will not be up for election until 1998.
Campos contends that Trevino has nowhere to go because he's failed to cultivate relationships with other Hispanic politicians in the county who he would need to help mount a campaign outside his home turf.
A county commissioner who says he initially tried to give Trevino advice, only to be drawn into arguments with the constable, agrees. "That's a hard district for a personality like that," the commissioner says of Trevino's chances in Fonteno's precinct. "Seven hundred thousand people, big block of labor, rednecks, Hispanics."
In any case, Trevino is in no hurry, and can spend years working on his volunteer deputy programs, cultivating deeper grassroots support and preparing for his re-election effort in 1996.
"If I was to run for another political position," he muses, "I don't want endorsements from politicians. I want the civic clubs, the PTAs, the Little Leagues, the senior citizens. The folks that I hope would come out. And I think they will, because we've worked with them."
And that may well be the moral of the Victor Trevino story.
