Let's not beat around the bush: Miami City Commissioner Michelle Spence-Jones, suspended last week by Gov. Charlie Crist after being charged with grand theft days after reelection, should not be allowed to run for the seat from which she was just bounced.

Florida law does allow it, believe it or not, since Spence-Jones, reelected and then suspended on back-to-back days, hasn't been convicted of anything.

Still, even without a conviction, Spence-Jones' troubles -- a charge that she diverted $50,000 in county grant money to a family business -- are of the sort that will not allow her to credibly represent her district unless and until she's cleared.

If you dislike that opinion, remember it next time your neighborhood police officer is placed on desk duty over brutality accusations, or your kid's teacher is suspended over student-abuse allegations.

But there's a bigger mystery here than the wisdom of a system that allows someone charged with a felony to run for an office from which they were removed because of that charge. South Florida politicos say that Spence-Jones, who announced Thursday evening she will run for her seat in January, will likely win.

The mystery is why. Why do politicians who operate with a cloud of suspicion over their heads get reelected?

It was a question asked about former Hialeah Mayor Raul Martinez, indicted on numerous charges in 1990, and elected to public office again in 1993. (After two hung juries, the charges against Martinez were eventually dropped.)

``Innocent till proven guilty'' is a great theme for a courtroom. But Spence-Jones represents a district that comprises some of Miami's poorest and most crime-plagued neighborhoods, including Liberty City and Overtown. These are neighborhoods that don't need a distracted representative right now.

There's an unfortunate assumption that some people who live in District 5 don't care what their elected officials do. That may be true to the extent that those who are hungriest, unemployed and frightened of criminal activity may be too preoccupied with self-preservation to care who's speaking for them in City Hall.

No, Spence-Jones's constituents care. But they may be guilty of caring too much.

If you're wondering where you've heard that notion before, think of every romantic story in which one lover repeatedly forgives another for cheating, every story of husbands and wives at odds over a wayward adult child who drains the family's resources, every story of a responsible sibling hiding an irresponsible sibling from the police.

It is what is known as ``relationship drama,'' and it is the type that involves your ignoring good sense in order to cheer for and cover for people who haven't earned your protection or cheers. It is the type of drama that involves your lending money to your crazy uncle for a get-rich-quick-scheme that you know will never pay off. It is the type of drama that leads you to treat troubled politicians not as nuisances and distractions from your communities' real problems, but as modern-day Robin Hoods who might be sticking it to ``the man.''

There's one problem with using relationship drama logic to govern your feelings toward politicians whose most personal connection to the masses is being home-grown: When the Robin Hoods of the world steal to finance their charity, they've gotta get their money from somewhere.