Talladega, Ala. -- One question has nagged Alabama for years.

How, in the name of all that is holy, could the mayor of Talladega defraud the city he served, go to prison and then be re-elected by that same city?

Like some Alabama Marion Berry.

It is worth a closer look. Into the Talladega barber shop where Larry Barton cuts hair on most Thursday and Friday mornings.

Barton - in a red barber's shirt and gray sweats -- is on his flip phone as the door clangs open at the Cavalier Hair Styling and Barber Shop, and the first thing I hear is his voice. And it is raised.

"They ain't my police, OK," he says. "How do you know they're not investigating? It just happened yesterday. They're not miracle workers."

There has been a murder overnight. In Talladega. Which in Talladega is a pretty big thing.

As a mayor whose prime selling point is accessibility to voters, he is fielding a call from a friend of the victim who believes more should be done. Barton doesn't even know who's been killed yet, but he urges the friend to work with the cops.

"The problem is nobody down there is coming forward to say what they know," he says into the phone. And then ... "I'm not upset. No, I don't get upset much."

Somehow, as Barton talks on and talks it out, he manages to diffuse a situation that wasn't always pleasant. He soon learns the name of the victim - his father is a Talladega poet - and calls the father and the grandfather from the barber chair. He takes a deep breath before he speaks.

"I'm afraid I heard something I didn't like to hear..." he begins. And suddenly the straight-shooting, fast-talking barber/businessman/mayor sounds like nothing but a friend, talking about what the family needs and wants, and how he might help.

And maybe that's it. Maybe that's his skill and the reason for his forgiveness. It seems to answer the question more than anybody else in this town can. I asked Jim Wilcox what coaxed Talladega to put Barton back in office, and he just laughed.

"We keep wondering that too," he said.

Barber Shop owner Monica Kemp has an idea. "He dozes but he never closes, just like he always says."

That's it. It's how Larry Barton could go to defrauding the city he serves, and claw his way back to its top elected office. Because he listens. And he talks - boy does he talk. He doesn't always tell people what they want to hear, but he always calls back, he said.

And it's impressive. He is a mayor of a town of some 16,000 people who lists his cell phone number on the city's website. I've tested it. He picks it up.

Talladega Mayor Larry Barton handles business from a barber shop where he works on Thursdays and Fridays.

"An elected official needs to be accessible, and if you don't want phone calls then get out of the public office," he said. "The phone call might not be important to me. But it's important to the person calling. And you need to respond to it."

Nor does he hide from his past.

"We went to court, I lost and we moved on," he said.

It's been almost 20 years since Barton, then in his third term as mayor, got popped for taking $5,900 from the city. Prosecutors said he had checks written to a guy to remove tree stumps in the city, but took it himself.

He was charged with one count of fraud and 26 of money laundering, and he wound up spending 37 1/2 months in the federal prison camp at Eglin Air Force Base. Always the colorful sort, he made headlines upon his return by calling it "the best vacation I ever had."

"That sort of rubbed some people the wrong way," he said.

Barton now acknowledges he messed up, but still disputes the fraud.

"I'd plead guilty to the way I handled the transaction, but I'm not going to plead guilty to something I'm not guilty of."

But the jury said he did the crime, and he did the time.

Barton was released from prison in the '90s and had his rights restored. He ran for mayor again in 1999 and 2003, but lost both times. In 2011 - facing a former revenue commissioner - he won the job again.

What does it mean to him, to go from ex-con to mayor?

"It makes me humble that they feel this way for me," he said. "Most of the folks in town didn't believe the way it was handled."

He's not bitter about prison, he said. He was treated well there and learned much.

"I learned there are a lot of folks there that should be there and probably a lot that shouldn't be there," he said. "In my case, or a $5,900 charge, they would have been better to fine me a tremendous fine, to make me wear a uniform that said 'I'm a thief,' or something.

"Locking me up for 371/2 months and costing taxpayers $60,000 is hard to justify."

But then his phone rings again, and Barton holds it up.

It is his secret weapon.

"They know I'm accessible and they know I'll help 'em if I can," he says. And he goes from barber back to mayor, carrying out his city business right there in front of the painted barber pole at the Cavalier.

He has one last word.

"People don't realize how close they are to getting caught up in the system," he said.