Don Hill Slides From Mayoral Candidate to Alleged Criminal

"I think somebody introduced Don to a new way of living," she says. "And I'm not going to say who."

"She's attracted to power and money," says Ed Okpa, the former mayoral candidate who attended the Hills' wedding. "I'm not saying she's a gold digger, but if you have those two things, she'll give you attention."

Speaking with Sheila Hill, you wouldn't guess both she and her husband face a federal trial that could send them both to prison. Although she declined to talk about the specifics of the case against her, she bristles at the thought that she had any type of wrongful influence on her husband.

"Don Hill, my husband, my wonderful husband, is an extremely intelligent and accomplished attorney. He is an outstanding leader in the city of Dallas. Most of all, he's a strong Christian man, so the mere notion that someone of that caliber being influenced by me or anyone is a disgrace. It's just meanness."

Besides, she says, what does that say about her?

"Anyone that knows me knows that I am a woman of integrity and I am a God-fearing woman, so the notion of me influencing him to do something that would be illegal is just out of character for me and for him."

Sandra Crenshaw, a former southern sector council member, says it's unfair to blame any of Hill's problems on his new wife. It was Hill and not anyone else who had the political experience and insider knowledge to conduct a bribery outfit in the first place.

"For those people trying to lay it on Sheila, they are in denial," she says. "They don't want to think that someone they thought so highly of could ever be capable of doing something like that, so you have to find a scapegoat to ease your pain, your own hurt and your own sadness."

Even for those not looking to assign blame, Hill's fall from grace is a southern Dallas mystery. Did he do it, and if so, why? How did their likable, honest council member fall into the same trap that's ensnared other Dallas politicians? Here was a guy who lived in a $150,000 house in Oak Cliff, who seemed to update his wardrobe every other election.

"I can't say what the price of his clothing was, but he always struck me as someone more concerned about the quality of life in his neighborhood than whether he was wearing a Versace suit," says Victor Lander, the local judge. "Don Hill's always been cautious, because he recognizes Dallas has a history of eating its young."

Michael Sorrell is also at a loss to explain what happened. Sorrell says that in all his dealings with Hill, the former council member never asked for a thing. Hill never seemed to have much of an ego and often met with Sorrell for breakfast, during which the two would talk about Paul Quinn, politics or just life in general. An attorney himself, Sorrell is not naïve. He knows the charges against Hill are serious and won't dismiss them out of hand as the product of a wild conspiracy. He just wonders if Hill made an uncharacteristic lapse in judgment.

"The Don Hill I know was a man who could have been mayor," Sorrell says, "who cared about the right stuff, who was a passionate advocate for his community, who didn't take anything that didn't belong to him, and that's the Don Hill I'm going to choose to remember."

It doesn't sound like the Hills want any sympathy. They both insist they relish the chance to prove their innocence in front of a jury.

"You ask how we're doing; we're doing fine," she says. "We are faith walkers. We walk by faith, not by sight."