Democratic mayoral candidate Carmen Robinson will be the first to tell you she isn't a politician. The criminal defense attorney and 15-year veteran of the Pittsburgh police has never held an elected office, but there are worse things in life than being a political novice in a town overrun by hacks, bandits and opportunists.

While conceding that she has less political experience than incumbent Mayor Luke Ravenstahl or City Councilman Patrick Dowd -- her opponents in the May 19 primary -- Ms. Robinson insists that being an advocate for those left out of previous equations makes her a viable candidate. Her campaign slogan is "She's Nobody's Boy," a spoof of Pete Flaherty's catch phrase in his successful 1969 mayoral campaign.

"I have a vision," Ms. Robinson, 40, told the Post-Gazette's editorial board yesterday. She was full of passionate conviction as she flashed one of the most irrepressible smiles in local politics. (Click here to see the April 27 PG story about her.)

Speaking of her blue-collar roots as the daughter of a Stanton Heights fireman, Ms. Robinson sounded like the embodiment of the American Dream. She skipped the 10th and 11th grades at Peabody High School and graduated from the University of Pittsburgh at age 20. She has never been shy about being one of the smartest people in the room.

Her resume of public service, including her long stint as a Pittsburgh police officer, is impressive, though not without controversy. In 1997, the city settled a sexual harassment complaint Ms. Robinson filed three years earlier against a superior who allegedly made advances and two supervisors who failed to intervene.

In 1998, Ms. Robinson was promoted to sergeant and given supervisory responsibility over dozens of young officers. When she was accused of attending classes during her work shift, she quit the police department to attend Duquesne University Law School full-time. She graduated in 2005 and began to clerk for state Supreme Court Justice Max Baer and Allegheny County Common Pleas Judge Dwayne Woodruff.

These days, Ms. Robinson is a defense attorney in private practice. Asked if her switch to criminal law ever caused her problems with her former colleagues, Ms. Robinson laughed. "They'll joke with me that I'm on the dark side," she said. None of her cases have been so contentious that they've tested the limits of police tolerance. "Television has more jury trials than actuality," she said. "I have a good relationship with the rank and file."

Now living in the Hill District with her 11-year-old son and her second husband, lawyer Paul K. Brown, Ms. Robinson has begun a quixotic journey into Pittsburgh's rough-and-tumble political scene. She knows that the odds are against her, but she's inspired by the example of another political underdog who overcame the odds -- President Barack Obama.

Several times during her interview, she evoked Mr. Obama's name to justify her own run for office. She's not running on the typical platform favored by Democratic candidates. Even though she knows they are popular in the black community, Ms. Robinson is skeptical of gun bans and considers them an expensive distraction for a city reeling from limited resources.

She favors more proactive programs aimed squarely at black males. As laudable as the Pittsburgh Promise college scholarship program is, Ms. Robinson doesn't believe it goes far enough. "It presupposes that our kids are graduating," she said. "They're not."

She would encourage nonprofits to put more dollars into middle-school-age kids and "get them before they go bad." She believes a vocational element is the missing link in the program because not all kids are destined for college.

Ms. Robinson, who still uses "we" when referring to the police, bemoans the fact that the homicide rate is up in Pittsburgh, but the clearance rate is down from when she was a cop. "Obviously we would have to reassess the whole department," she said. While not prepared to pass judgment on police Chief Nate Harper, she thinks that "Chief [Earl] Buford was a lot more successful."

Before she began her run, Ms. Robinson sought out every leader and community organizer she could to ask what they considered the city's most pressing issues. She was especially interested in hearing from the city's often fractious black leaders about their issues, though she makes it clear that she isn't running as a "black leader" herself. She's proud that she isn't considered a part of any clique.

"I'm nobody's friend," she said. "I'm nobody's enemy, either." Whatever happens on May 19, it will not be the last time we hear of Carmen Robinson -- if we're lucky.