No wonder Erin Kenny suffers from vertigo.

Anyone's head would spin trying to keep track of all that illegal cash, an offshore account, a family budget, law school and a massive statewide political campaign.

On Thursday she testified for the prosecution in the federal corruption trial against fellow former county commissioners Dario Herrera and Mary Kincaid-Chauncey.

Even before she got her first $5,000 in cash from Mike Galardi (brought conveniently to the dizzy blonde's sickbed), she had already been taking $3,000-a-month for two years from Don Davidson.

By the time the feds got to her in May of 2003, she had wiped out most of the $200,000 in an offshore account, had spent more than $100,000 of Davidson's Triple Five Development Corp. money on "incidentals" and still had either a maximum or minimum (Kenny wasn't too sure Thursday) of $30,000 cash from Galardi.

She was making roughly $54,000 a year in her "honest" job as a county commissioner and by the time 2003 rolled around was also telling folks she was on developer Jim Rhodes' payroll.

Kenny didn't pay taxes on any of the ill-gotten funds, didn't disclose any of these relationships prior to votes, didn't account for any of the offshore money on her campaign report and was still meeting Davidson at the IHOP for 3 Gs a month.

Perhaps the biggest crime coming into focus in the corruption trial is the government's leniency with Kenny. She can't be prosecuted for taking the equivalent of over $300,000 from Davidson, as per her plea agreement in the Galardi case.

The "U.S. Attorney's Office for the District of Nevada will bring no additional charge or charges ... culminating in this plea agreement." So, she's indemnified for taking all that Triple Five money. We can only hope the feds remember Al Capone.

Kenny was her sick and twisted self on the stand last week, and should be quite a pip again tomorrow when Herrera's attorney resumes cross examination.

She talked about how taking the cash bribes from Galardi's frontman and her former commission colleague Lance Malone was difficult on her emotions because "It was not part of my moral code."

What she knew in her conscience to be wrong didn't nag her enough to stop after that first $5,000 delivered to her bedside.

She said she got three more payments. One was given her in Malone's car outside a hotel where she was taking a course to study for the bar exam and another in a construction trailer at Galardi's home. The third was left in the trash can in the bathroom at her campaign headquarters in 2002.

Kenny, who said she suffers from short-term memory loss and now can't remember entire years of her childhood, couldn't remember any of the other times she got cash. She said she believed it happened "regularly," and when pressed, suggested she probably got a dozen wads of cash from Malone.

Anyone who watches bills make their way through the Legislature or sees developers get their way time and again before local elected boards has to wonder these days how many other Kennys are out there.

Imagine what wiretaps on the 63 legislators might reveal, beyond the acceptance of Rolling Stones tickets and discounts on cruises.

Imagine if someone could intercept the real banking records of county commissioners who can afford to build mansions on their $50,000-a-year job.

What if someone with a badge could poke through the pulpy juice of real estate deals numerous elected officials make?

Wonder how is it that some politicians go into office with relatively modest incomes and emerge millionaires? Or go from living with Mom and Dad to having a nice pad in a country club?

Reporters are taught to follow the money, but there's only so far the legal trail can take you.

We sniffed like crazy when the zoning flipped to allow construction of the CVS at Buffalo Drive and Desert Inn Road. We circled and circled when Malone flipped his vote on the Spring Valley Casino.

The neighbors -- in both cases -- suspected cash had changed hands. Now we know for sure how readily it greased Kenny's hands.

When she was first informed she was a target of the investigation three years ago, Kenny told the feds she wasn't doing anything unusual for Galardi, despite the numerous examples of calls made, ordinances floated and commissioners cajoled.

She said she was like an animal when it came to working an issue -- any issue.

Yet Thursday the constituency Kenny really served came into focus when she talked about trying to find a job by contacting developers and others with business before the county.

"No one was able to give me up as a vote," Kenny testified.

Eventually she did a four-month stint editing brochures for Triple Five. She got paid under the table and all in cash for four years.

Kenny's memory loss is another marvel. She couldn't recall Thursday which judge she saw when she entered her plea agreement or what denomination the cash payments were in.

Yet she could tell you traffic counts at Buffalo and Desert Inn and discuss to the 32nd of an inch a construction beam's errant location at Galardi's strip club, Jaguars.

The prosecution used Kenny to give jurors some perspective about what it is alleged Herrera and Kincaid-Chauncey did.

The risk they run is leaving jurors wondering whose alleged crimes are worse. Kenny faces a statutory maximum of 45 years in prison for the three counts to which she has plead guilty. Sentencing guidelines would give her a maximum of 47 months. Yet, it's also possible she'll get probation.

Kenny described her view of politics as "no permanent friends, no permanent enemies."

In her case, there was also no permanent loyalty to anything other than money.

Erin Neff's column runs Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. You can reach her at 387-2906, or by e-mail at eneff@reviewjournal.com.