Virginia politics: Of diet pills and posh shoes VIRGINIA'S perfectly coiffed governor, Bob McDonnell, opened his term four years ago by delivering the Republican response to President Barack Obama's state-of-the-union message. No sooner had he ended his term, this month, than he found himself accused of corruption by Mr Obama's Justice Department. He and his wife Maureen, a former Washington Redskins cheerleader, were hit with a 14-count federal criminal indictment alleging that they took thousands of dollars in gifts and loans from a flamboyant executive, Jonnie Williams. Mr Williams was seeking state favour for his "wonder product," a dietary supplement derived from tobacco, which is more or less Virginia's state plant. The indictment, the first handed down to a Virginia governor in modern times, brims with details of designer shoes and accessories showered by Mr Williams on Mrs McDonnell, holidays for the McDonnell clan at Mr Williams" lakeside pile, golf outings at his club, use of his white Ferrari roadster, a Rolex for the governor, five-figure cheques for the weddings of two McDonnell daughters, and cash loans on easy terms to keep afloat the McDonnells" ill-timed property investments. If convicted, the governor and his wife could face decades in prison and fines of up to $1m. He denies all the charges, arguing that he did no more for Mr Williams's firm than previous governors have done for others. Virginia is a state known for its probity. It is also known for its admiration of corporate bigwigs. Until he was beset by this scandal nearly a year ago, Mr McDonnell was a rising star in the national Republican Party. Many thought him a welcome alternative to his party's rigid culture warriors: he talked more about schools and roads than gays or abortion. Voters liked him, and elected him in a landslide in 2009. He was floated as a running-mate for Mitt Romney in 2012, and recently headed the Republican Governors Association. Even his apostasy on taxes seemed a selling point. Having promised never to raise them, in early 2013 he persuaded the legislature to provide $6 billion (in higher sales taxes and vehicle fees) for Virginia's crumbling highways. This was spun, to mixed effect, as an example of a conservative Republican thinking afresh and finding common ground with Democrats. That achievement was soon overshadowed by the steady drip of damning newspaper reports about Mr McDonnell's relationship with Mr Williams. The businessman is depicted by federal investigators as keen to affix to his wonder product the imprimatur of respected scientists and first-rank research universities. The governor, he seemed to think, could be a conduit to both. As "Giftgate" unfolded, it badly damaged the Republican brand in Virginia. Mr McDonnell became a pariah. He was virtually ignored, during the campaign to succeed him, by his party's nominee, Ken Cuccinelli. So bad was the smell that it helped lift a Democrat, Terry McAuliffe, to victory. The scandal is now forcing the legislature, for the first time in two decades, to consider strengthening Virginia's porous and inexact ethics laws. These laws largely allow politicians to police themselves. For example, they do not have to disclose gifts from a relative or personal friend - and the law leaves it up to the official to determine whether a benefactor is, in fact, a friend. Mr McDonnell clearly thought Mr Williams was. It was behind that screen, the Justice Department alleges, that the scheme to assist Mr Williams was carried on - and a promising political career was probably snuffed out.