This is an opinion column.

Rep. John Rogers may be the most misunderstood man in Alabama. I mean literally.

I mean intentionally.

Federal prosecutors thought they had him dead to rights back in 1989. They were sure the Birmingham Democrat committed extortion when he took $5,000 – more than $12,000 in today’s dollars – to push a “Buy Alabama Coal” bill through the Legislature.

The FBI wiretapped the deal. They had him on tape. They played it in court at his trial. A slam dunk.

But they couldn’t prove a thing. Because Rogers tends to mumble.

Prosecutors had a transcript of the conversation, and the defense had a transcript of the same conversation, but they couldn’t agree on the words coming out of his mouth. U.S. District Judge James Hancock made lawyers stop the tape three times to let a jury decide what the man said.

The jurors didn’t know, either. The words, it was reported at trial, “at times seemed unintelligible.”

So Rogers was acquitted. He walked, and people have joked for decades that he created the golden rule of Alabama politics: If they can’t tell what the hell you’re talking about, they can’t prove it’s wrong.

It seems to have worked for Rogers. He has been suspected and investigated and accused time after time. He beat the rap on ethics charges because the statute of limitations ran out. The FBI raided his office and seized computers. Nothing stuck.

And now Rogers has been popped again, charged in federal court with obstruction of justice and obstruction by bribery. The feds say he tried to bribe somebody with public money to prevent them from telling investigators about a kickback involving public money sent in 2019 to an unnamed organization.

Ugly stuff. It’s the latest in a series of related scandals.

Former Rep. Fred Plump pleaded guilty earlier this year to a kickback scheme involving his youth baseball league, which received tax money via Rogers. Plump resigned, and spilled the beans. Varrie Kindall – or Varrie Johnson, depending on who you ask – is charged with multiple crimes. Rogers has said Kindall/Johnson worked for him.

Who knows what a jury will hear. The facts may be tough to follow, but the stench is strong.

Since 2018, Rogers sent a half million dollars in public money to Plump’s baseball league, a non-profit set up to give poor kids a chance to compete, to prosper. Plump, who was supposed to be doing right by those kids, by his own admission sent 40 percent of it – $200,000 – back to Kindall/Johnson, the woman who worked for Rogers. Kindall/Johnson told Plump, according to court records, that Rogers would get half.

Then, in 2019, Rogers sent more money from that pot, the Jefferson County Community Service Fund, to another as-yet-unnamed organization. Kindall/Johnson cut more checks from that, too, the indictment says.

Rogers has done what Rogers does. He has confused the issues. He has quipped about the “fantastically fine” Kindall/Johnson and has told reporters about an alleged love triangle between the three. He has talked about how he would never be so dumb to get caught by doing something like this. And he comes off as a funny, likable guy.

But it’s like the mumble on the wiretap from 1989. It confuses the issue.

And the issue ought to be crystal clear.

This scheme stinks to high heaven on its face. A legislator passing taxpayer money to another legislator reeks all by itself.

At least some of this misdirected money was supposed to go to help kids. They didn’t get what they were promised.

It was money taken from taxpayers, who had no say in the matter and got no benefit from it.

It confirmed the worst suspicions about politics and politicians, regardless of the final verdict. Which means it will be harder for poor kids and baseball teams and deserving programs to get the help they need next time.

That’s real easy to understand.

John Archibald is a two-time Pulitzer winner at AL.com.