Chapter 508 - 236: Conspiracy
Harrisburg, the Governor’s Mansion.
Bob Campbell sat in a deep red armchair, a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea in his hand.
He had just won re-election, beginning his second term as the Governor of Pennsylvania.
The election victory had made him look considerably younger than his actual age, his face holding a triumphant glow.
As a Democratic Governor who had successfully won re-election in a key Swing State, Campbell’s name was already appearing in major Washington media outlets on lists of potential future cabinet members.
He felt he was the true representative of the will of Pennsylvanians, a leader capable of uniting all factions.
At this moment, he held a document in his hands.
It was the draft of the Medicine Benefits Transparency and Fairness Bill, just delivered by his Vice Governor, Aston Monroe.
Campbell, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, read it word for word.
The further he read, the brighter his eyes became.
"Aston."
Campbell took off his glasses, looking up at his Vice Governor, who was standing before the fireplace.
"I think this is a good bill."
Monroe, who was holding a glass of brandy, heard this, and his hand trembled slightly. The liquor sloshed against the glass, sending a ripple across its surface.
"Governor."
Monroe turned around, a polite and restrained smile on his face.
"It’s certainly a bold proposal."
"But, you know as well as I do, the interests involved are incredibly complex. And Washington..."
"Can we leave Washington out of this for now?"
Campbell’s demeanor suddenly turned serious, taking Monroe by surprise.
In Monroe’s experience, Campbell had always been a mild-mannered nice guy.
He never raised his voice, never clashed with the party leadership, and always sought the safest point of equilibrium between the various factions.
But today, Campbell seemed different.
"Aston, sit down." Campbell gestured to the chair opposite him. "Let’s talk."
Monroe sat down, placing his glass on the coffee table.
"Do you know why I think it’s good?" Campbell tapped the document in his hand.
"Because it goes after the pharmacy benefit managers."
Campbell’s voice carried the excitement of someone discovering a new world.
"They’re the perfect political scapegoat, Aston. In our current healthcare system, these middlemen have a reputation that’s even worse than the insurance companies, and they’re seen as greedier than the drug manufacturers."
"The Left hates them because they exploit patients and drive up drug prices."
"The Right hates them because they engage in monopolistic practices and distort free-market competition."
"Even the pharmaceutical giants hate them, because the PBMs eat up the profits they could have otherwise pocketed."
Campbell leaned forward, his gaze intense.
"This is a rare point of bipartisan political consensus."
"If I sign this bill, I’m striking a blow against greedy middlemen, not against healthcare capitalism as a whole."
"This is a moderate reform, Aston. The folks in Washington will be glad to see someone finally rein in these brazenly greedy middlemen."
Monroe listened to the Governor’s analysis, sneering inwardly.
"And another thing." Campbell’s voice dropped. "Opioids."
He looked out the window, as if seeing the trembling addicts out there.
"Pennsylvania is a hard-hit area. During my term in office, more young people have died from fentanyl overdoses and painkiller addiction than in car accidents."
"Every time I attend one of those community funerals and look into the eyes of the parents who’ve lost a child, I feel... that it’s my failing."
"It’s the biggest stain on my administration."
"Insurance companies and PBMs, trying to save money and chasing rebates, pressure doctors into prescribing cheap opioids instead of safer options like physical therapy."
"They’re accomplices."
"If I can push this bill through and curb this drug epidemic,"
Campbell’s gaze softened.
"then maybe I can get a good night’s sleep when I retire."
"I want to leave Pennsylvania wearing the halo of a savior."
Monroe looked at the old man before him.
He saw a governor at the peak of his political career, attempting to add a crowning achievement to his legacy, to give himself more leverage for a cabinet position in Washington four years down the road.
It was a dangerous state of mind.
Because when it came to their own careers, a Politician was capable of anything.
"But, Governor," Monroe began tentatively, "the political contributions from the insurance companies... their influence in Washington... for your future prospects..."
"I don’t need their support!"
Campbell waved a dismissive hand, his expression one of indifference.
This wasn’t just political posturing. The Campbell Family had been in Pennsylvania’s railroad and banking industries for over a century, and he himself was the beneficiary of a massive trust fund.
And for that very reason, deep down, he held a particular contempt—the kind unique to old money—for the Washington Politicians who had to rely on fundraising to survive.
"My re-election was won with the votes of Pennsylvanians, not through handouts from Washington bankers."
A trace of arrogance colored Campbell’s voice.
"Aston, you have to remember, we are the people’s governors. If we don’t even have the courage to sign a bill that benefits millions of our citizens, then how are we any different from those Republicans who are completely beholden to their donors?"
Campbell stood up and walked to the window.
"Those people in Washington, the chairman of the Democratic National Committee, all those lobbyists... they’ve been telling me what to do for four years."