[Ed. note: Sic semper ignoramus.]
or those who never liked Kwame Kilpatrick, never trusted him, and never expected that his election would bring anything but grief to Detroit, Thursday was just another day to say, “I told you so.”
But if you were among the more substantial number of Detroiters who voted for Kilpatrick not once, but twice, and who at one point or another were charmed, stirred or simply conned by the charisma we now recognize as pathological narcissism, Kilpatrick’s sentencing was an occasion for self-reflection, a day to consider how easily a people starved for leadership or even the palest imitation of it may be led astray.
Like many Detroit journalists, I counted myself for some years among the seduced. I’m not sure I ever trusted Kilpatrick, but I know I wanted to.
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This was not for want of exposure to skeptics.