DES MOINES, Iowa – Rick Perry had only been strolling the grand concourse of the Iowa State Fair for a few minutes before he faced the crucial and inevitable question for any visiting politician.

What would he eat?

As the Republican governor of Texas purposefully marched by a string of colorful, inviting food stands – followed by a parade of security detail, a half dozen political aides, a coterie of local and national media and a growing herd of curious onlookers – one associate floated the option of deep fried macaroni and cheese.

“You’re setting me up dude. I’ve been in that trap before,” a noticeably slimmer Perry begged off with a grin.

Moments later, he was nudged about the local barbecue being braised for the annual Farm Bureau cookout contest. He politely demurred.

“Have you had a pork chop yet?” hollered a cameraman from a local television station as he zeroed his lens in on Perry’s face for the answer.

Finally, the governor fed the hungry herd a response that would at least buy him some time.

“I had a big breakfast this morning,” Perry offered. “One of the things I learned about coming last time to Iowa is to pace yourself.”

He was referring to the food, of course. But Perry, 64, could have easily been speaking about his searing experience as a first-time presidential candidate, when he skyrocketed to front-runner and then plummeted to punch line material – after he froze under the klieg lights of a national debate – all in a span of three months.

Travis County District Attorney Rosemary Lehmberg Jack Plunkett/AP

If the governor had any inkling of the looming abuse of power indictment that would be handed down only a few days later, he certainly didn't show it.

The stunning two felony counts lodged against him Friday for his veto threat of funding for the state's Public Integrity Unit adds another obvious hurdle to his well-laid plans for political redemption. But the governor has at least appeared to grab the upper hand of the optics surrounding the charges of abuse of power and coercion of a public official, which many view as politically-motivated and resting on a flimsy legal rationale.

The indictment essentially accuses Perry of breaking the law for exacting political punishment against Democratic County District Attorney Rosemary Lehmberg, who resisted calls by the governor to resign after she was arrested for drunken driving last year. Perry threatened to eliminate funding for a public corruption unit led by Lehmberg if she didn't step down, and followed through on that pledge once she remained in the position.

Perry deemed the charges "outrageous" and a "farce" and some unlikely allies have already come to his defense.

Sen. Ted Cruz, R-Texas, a potential 2016 rival to Perry​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​, emailed supporters over the weekend that he was "proud to stand with Rick Perry," labeling the indictment "extremely questionable" and "highly suspect."

Liberal law professor Alan Dershowitz said "everybody, liberal or conservative, should stand against this indictment."

Even David Axelrod, President Barack Obama's former top political adviser, opined on Twitter that the indictment "seems pretty sketchy." ​​

Nonetheless, if he ends up pulling the trigger on a second presidential bid, Perry could face the dubious distinction of campaigning for the White House while having to defend himself amid a jury trial​​.

It was three years ago last week that Perry bounded into the 2012 race, after being convinced by his longtime advisers of a gaping opening to swipe away the Republican nomination. After a hurried official announcement of his bid at the RedState conference in Charleston, South Carolina, he arrived at the Iowa State Fair a colossal figure: a poll-leading, imposing contender oozing limitless confidence and potential. He mockingly blew bitter rival Mitt Romney a kiss, telling reporters at the fair to “Give him my love.”



“Go back and look at the clips and the polls, just before he got in and when he got in. He was the 900-pound gorilla,” recalls Ron Kaufman, a longtime Republican operative and senior adviser to Romney at the time.

Less than three months later, Perry would cough up his infamous “oops” moment on a national debate stage. In November 2011 during a GOP primary debate in Michigan, Perry failed to recall the third of three federal departments he said he would eliminate as president. "But you can't name the third one?" prodded CNBC journalist John Harwood. The rest is history.

As Perry returned to the grounds of the cherished Iowa tradition last week, the fruits of his carefully calibrated rehabilitation since the 2012 debacle were evident all around him.

Seemingly every few feet, a fairgoer stopped Perry for a picture or an autograph or a handshake. Some called him “governor,” many just yelled “Rick!” But nearly everyone wanted to get close to him, cupping their arms gently around his neck -- “We need somebody who’s not going to swivel to the center,” instructed a gentleman in well-worn bluejeans and a dirt-stained ball cap – or pulling him tight enough toward them to establish a sense of conversational intimacy.

When Perry bent down to greet a fellow veteran in a wheelchair with an American flag draped ​on the back, the man beamed, shaking the governor’s hand and saying, “I know you, I like you, I really do.”

Of the still emerging and evolving 2016 GOP field, Perry is hands-down the best retail politician of them all. Unlike many politicians, Perry’s magnetic persona and comfortable ease among the public is palpable and unforced.

Texas Gov. Rick Perry stops by the annual barbecue contest at the Iowa State Fair on Aug. 12.

David Catanese for USN&WR

It’s this unteachable and boundless trait that has, in part, resurrected his chances for a redemptive White House run in 2016. His impressive, commanding performances on television, in news conferences and on the stump around the country have led to a refurbished narrative about his prospects.

“He’s hardworking, he’s bipartisan, he’s recasting himself for 2016,” blared a largely positive recent National Journal profile.

He’s repeatedly acknowledged his mistakes and lack of preparation and is spending more time in policy briefings with experts. He’s also logging considerably ​​more miles in the early primary states, surrounding himself with a new team of advisers.

The standard line from the professional political class is that Perry should not be underestimated, that he’ll be a serious player, that voters are taking another long, hard look at the affable, backslapping governor. A July Fox News poll had him lingering at the top of the heap of the muddled and hypothetical 2016 Republican primary.

But, even on top of this new indictment, there are limits to Perry’s comeback calculation – and they begin with his fairly narrow breadth and depth when it comes to policy.

Listening to Perry address fairgoers at The Des Moines Register soapbox Tuesday, it was apparent that his repertoire had barely changed in the three years since he ran for president. ​​

Standing on the small, sun-soaked stage, Perry articulated his path to economic prosperity: a light tax burden, regulatory certainty, a legal system that doesn’t allow for “over-suing” and a public school system that’s locally accountable.

Three years ago, he said almost the exact same thing.

“This is pretty simple stuff,” Perry said at the 2011 Iowa State Fair, according to The New York Times. “You don’t have to be a rocket scientist. You don’t have to have a Ph.D. in economics to understand that you have to keep the taxes low, have a regulatory climate that’s fair and predictable and you have a legal system that doesn’t allow for over-suing.”



Illustration by Ethan Rosenberg for USN&WR/Photos by AP

Afterward when Taylor Larson, a Drake University student, asked Perry what he would do to fix the debt, Perry replied chummily, “Want me to give you the A, B, C, one? Don’t spend all the money.” He continued by referencing the oft-cited, politically implausible constitutional amendment to require a balanced-budget.

The sterling job story in Texas is Perry's favorite and most compelling selling point and would be a pillar of a 2016 campaign. He is able to boast the addition of more than 1 million jobs under his tenure​. Unemployment in the Lone Star State is almost a full percentage ​point lower than the national average and forecasters project 2014 will produce another record year of fresh job gains there.

"The only thing hotter than a Texas summer is Texas job growth," Perry boasted just Friday. ​

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But this storyline was supposed to be Perry's trump card in 2012, and Republican voters still went with a governor who presided over comparatively meager job growth.

This time, a rival from his own backyard is already letting the air out of that balloon, wielding a stinging critique.

"There isn’t a politician in this country who’s responsible for the economic growth we have,” said Cruz back in May . “The economic growth has come from the private sector, it’s come from entrepreneurs. Nothing drives me crazier than politicians who run around talking about the jobs they’ve created.”

Perry has also received a boomlet of publicity this summer for his hard line stand on the flow of migrants across the border. He's been omnipresent on television, lambasting a limp federal government and even going as far as to accuse the president of conspiring to create the crisis. His proactive posture – he's deployed 1,000 National Guard troops to stem the tide – may fit the current moment. But Perry's history on the immigrant conundrum is complex, having been blistered by the right in 2011 for saying on a debate stage that those opposing in-state tuition for children of illegal immigrants "don't have a heart." The dire need to attract more Hispanic voters in 2016 will make immigration a tricky issue for any Republican, but Perry's dilemma will be particularly acute given his history.

And still hanging over Perry's every utterance is the "oops" moment. Even a short lapse, tiny factual error or passing garbled mispronunciation will entrench underlying fears about Perry's intellectual capacity for the job.

In a question-and-answer session with reporters last Tuesday, Perry got tongue-tied – albeit briefly – when he alluded to the peshmerga, ​the term commonly used to refer to the Kurdish fighting force in northern Iraq.

“Making sure that we fully equip the pesh-mega, I mean, the Kurdish military, is very important and I’m talking about supplying them with up to and including the heavy weapons they need,” he said.

This was no repeat of the “oops” meltdown, but rather a simple reminder that even another slight misstatement on substance during a primary run would likely prove fatal for him.



Ethan Rosenberg for USN&WR

On top of the seed of risk that remains planted in the minds of many GOP donors, Perry would confront a more complicated history in a second attempt at the presidency.

He likes to point out that Romney, Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., and Bob Dole all ran for the nomination once and lost before becoming the party’s standard-bearer.

What Perry ignores is that each of them carried several states and buckets of delegates during their previous, unsuccessful runs. In 2008, Romney won 11 states. In 2000, McCain scored seven, including the first-in-the-nation primary of New Hampshire. In 1988, Dole took five states.

Perry’s 2012 endeavor lasted five full months, in which he placed fifth in Iowa, garnering 10 percent of the vote. Writing off New Hampshire produced a last place finish there and before encountering a similarly embarrassing finish in South Carolina, he dropped out. He wasn't the runner-up, not even close.

The explanation since has been that he simply wasn’t ready for the physical, mental and emotional toll of running for president.

Yet imagine if Perry possessed the restraint to defy advisers and not run in the last cycle.

Kaufman, who considers himself a friend of Perry, has certainly imagined it.

“There’s a timing to these things. Gov. Perry, it wasn’t his time, physically, experience-wise. I always believe he should’ve been Mitt’s campaign chair. It would’ve been smart for him to do, from the beginning, or someone’s campaign, and get the experience out there,” he said, acknowledging the bitter blood between the two governors. ​ “But it wasn’t meant to be.”

Erase the 2012 fiasco and Perry could’ve very well been the "900-pound ​gorilla" of the 2016 cycle, a towering charismatic governor with 14 years of experience in a state basking in economic success. Hypotheticals are largely useless to consider now, though, especially with a perpetually optimistic, forward-looking politician like Perry.

In 2016, if he pulls the trigger, he'll likely be up against a handful of other governors with star power who are fresher faces and without such an indelible blemish.

"Perry missed his window of opportunity. And he missed it because he refused to prepare. Now it is too late," says a GOP lobbyist on Capitol Hill.

Toward the end of his stay at the fair, he finally gravitates toward a food stand, fully ready to indulge. He settles on a plate of chicken fingers and fries with a separate side of crispy bacon, which he graciously offers to share with accompanying reporters.

It’s difficult to resist Perry’s overture, and the surrounding reporters acquiesce to his offering, even as fairgoers continue to gravitate toward the man himself.

“You’re gonna want to try this,” he said. “Dig in.”

Just three days later, Perry would be slapped with an indictment that could send him to prison for 99 years. Even if the charges are debunked, there's always the risk the trial itself could unearth extraneous information that's politically embarrassing or damaging, like former Virginia Gov. Bob McDonnell is finding out. It's too soon to predict how greatly this will impact Perry's political ambition.