Something suspicious is happening in Alabama politics.
Katherine Robertson, a former top aide to outgoing Attorney General Steve Marshall, received a $1 million donation in June—the largest single contribution ever reported in a statewide race. She recently took in another $100,000 from the same source. But this money didn’t come from a prominent donor, a grassroots surge, or even a well-known political action committee. It came from a dark money nonprofit called First Principles Action Inc.
That donation wasn’t spontaneous. It was arranged. It was recruited.
According to a source with direct knowledge of Leonard Leo’s political operations—granted anonymity to speak freely without fear of retribution—Robertson was one of several individuals Leo personally encouraged to run for attorney general during a Republican Attorneys General Association event in 2023. “This wasn’t some loose suggestion—he wanted her in,” the source said.
That encouragement came with something else: a promise of support. And it has arrived—quietly, strategically, and in massive amounts.
A Pipeline of Power
The $1.1 million now sitting in Robertson’s campaign account came from First Principles Action Inc., a group so new and obscure it didn’t exist before late 2024. Its listed address is a generic Nashville office building that also houses law firms, a plumbing company, and Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Tennessee. It has no tax filing, no donor list, no board roster—nothing to explain where the money came from or who else may be receiving similar support.
But one name stands out: Peter Bisbee, the group’s founder and a longtime operative in Leo’s political circle. Bisbee formerly served as executive director of the Republican Attorneys General Association (RAGA), a central cog in Leo’s political machine.
“This is Leo’s money,” the source said. “The people who know how this world works understand that. It’s not a guess. This is how they do it—create a new 501(c)(4), route money through it, and drop it into a race with zero transparency.”
That strategy isn’t new. For years, Leo relied on the Concord Fund—formerly known as the Judicial Crisis Network—as his primary vehicle for reshaping the judiciary and directing conservative policy fights. But his ambitions have grown. He’s now extending that network into state-level political battles, like Alabama’s attorney general race.
And the hands guiding those courts aren’t invisible—they’re well-funded and deliberate. The Concord Fund, one of Leo’s flagship nonprofits, reported $52.8 million in revenue between mid-2022 and mid-2023—and paid $6 million to Leo’s private consulting firm, CRC Advisors, in that same period.
Meanwhile, CRC Advisors continues to reap mammoth payments from the broader Leo nonprofit ecosystem: more than $33 million in 2023 alone—nearly $26 million of which came from organizations affiliated with Leo himself.
These payments are now under legal scrutiny. The D.C. attorney general, Brian Schwalb, is reportedly probing whether Leo’s nonprofits unlawfully funneled tax-exempt dollars into his for-profit enterprises, potentially violating nonprofit law.
The scheme works like this: wealthy individuals, corporations, or ideological donors contribute anonymously to Leo’s nonprofit network. Those funds are then routed through 501(c)(4) entities like First Principles Action Inc., which can donate directly to candidates without ever revealing the original sources. By the time the check lands in a campaign’s account, the money has passed through enough layers to make the trail nearly impossible to follow.
Unlike 501(c)(3) charities, which are barred from political spending, 501(c)(4) “social welfare” organizations are legally permitted to engage in political activity, including contributions to candidates, so long as it’s not their primary purpose.
The RAGA Connection
Robertson didn’t just receive the money—she was selected for it.
The RAGA meetings are a place where future candidates are picked. “It’s where plans are made and candidates are chosen,” the source said. “He encouraged a few people to jump into AG races. Katherine was one of them. And once Leonard gives you the nod, the money follows.”
Robertson’s boss and now her most prominent endorser, Steve Marshall, is no stranger to this world. He’s been deeply embedded in RAGA for years, serving as chairman of the Rule of Law Defense Fund, RLDF—RAGA’s fundraising and policy arm. RLDF, notably, funded robocalls that encouraged participation in the Jan. 6 rally that devolved into an insurrection at the U.S. Capitol.
Marshall has never answered for his role in that effort. What he has done is clear the path for Robertson, endorsing her and aligning her with the same machine.
RAGA and RLDF have received tens of millions of dollars from Leo’s network. IRS records show that the Concord Fund alone sent more than $16.5 million to RAGA and $1.9 million to RLDF. While the Concord Fund is still active, its methods have evolved—and the money is now flowing through even murkier channels.
Legal, But Rotten
The most alarming part of all this? It’s legal.
Robertson’s $1.1 million haul—almost entirely from a single, secretive source—skirts Alabama’s campaign finance disclosure laws with surgical precision.
As APR’s Josh Moon reported, Alabama is one of the few states that still allows 501(c)(4) nonprofits to donate directly to political candidates. These organizations are not required to disclose their donors, meaning corporations or ideological power players can funnel unlimited funds into elections without leaving a fingerprint.
“There’s no doubt this is a workaround,” said a state official with two decades of experience in election law. “If you’re donating this way, it’s because you want to hide the money. That might not be illegal—but it sure as hell isn’t transparent.”
When pressed by APR, Robertson’s campaign dodged every question. Asked who gave the money, they referred all inquiries to Bisbee. Asked whether the donation violated the spirit of Alabama’s Fair Campaign Practices Act, the campaign said simply: “We are proud to have the support of this organization.”
Translation: We took the money, and we’re not telling you anything else.
Torn Allegiances
Robertson, like many Alabama Republicans, campaigns as a proud Trump conservative. She’s wrapped herself in his brand, his message, and his base. But there’s a glaring contradiction: her campaign is funded, recruited, and operated by Leonard Leo—a man whose once-symbiotic alliance with Trump has quietly crumbled.
Back in 2016, Trump needed Leo’s credibility with the conservative legal movement. Leo needed Trump’s authority to seat judges. It worked: Leo helped select Trump’s judges, and Trump got a Supreme Court shaped by Leo’s priorities.
But the partnership fractured.
“Trump’s trying to stay out of prison. Leonard’s trying to shape American law for the next 50 years. Those two missions don’t really line up anymore,” the source said. “Loyalty matters to Trump, but Leonard’s loyalty was never to Trump—it was to the movement.”
Since his return to office, Leo has kept his distance from Trump, and most groups in his orbit—including the Federalist Society—have declined to support Trump’s legal battles or his 2024 campaign. Some have even criticized him publicly. The message is clear: Trump is no longer useful.
And yet here in Alabama, Leo’s chosen candidate—Katherine Robertson—is running on Trump’s coattails. She tells voters she’s for Trump, but everything about her campaign says otherwise.
So the question must be asked: Which master does she serve?
Because you can’t serve both.
You cannot accept over a million dollars from Leonard Leo’s network and claim you’re fighting for Donald Trump. You can’t run on populism while your campaign is a product of elite ideological engineering. And you certainly can’t promise transparency while hiding behind the darkest money Alabama has ever seen.
A Final Warning
Leonard Leo doesn’t just want to shape the judiciary. He wants to own the legal battlefield. And state attorneys general are central to that strategy. They don’t need victims to sue. They don’t need permission to file. All they need is office—and loyalty.
This isn’t about Katherine Robertson’s qualifications. It’s about her willingness to be installed by a national machine, funded from the shadows, and shielded from scrutiny.
If Alabama elects its next attorney general through a process this murky, this compromised, and this unaccountable, it won’t just be one office that’s lost—it will be public trust in the rule of law itself.
Because when power moves in the dark, justice becomes just another transaction. And when a candidate swears allegiance to two masters, only one is truly in control. If that master sits in Washington, not Montgomery, then Alabama’s next attorney general won’t serve the people—only the agenda that paid her way in.
APR contacted Robertson’s campaign for comment regarding her ties to Leonard Leo. No response was received.
(Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by PostX News and is published from a syndicated feed.)
