ATLANTA – Rick Jackson is hardly the first billionaire to tell working-class voters that he will stand up for them in public office. The Republican candidate for Georgia governor has even drawn comparisons between himself and the real estate tycoon who made it to the White House.
Yet Jackson’s route to politics is markedly different from Donald Trump’s. The 72-year-old healthcare executive and investor is running for office for the first time with a persona far removed from Trump’s. Trump was born into wealth; Jackson spent his childhood moving among foster homes before starting his first business as a young adult.
Jackson is now trying to draw on both his connections to and differences from the president. He is backing that strategy with hundreds of millions of dollars from his own fortune and a deeply personal life story that sits at the center of his appeal to Georgia voters.
“I have lived in poverty,” Jackson says. “When you have not eaten, you never forget that, and you don’t forget the people that are struggling.”
Democratic nominee Keisha Lance Bottoms, the former mayor of Atlanta, rejects Jackson’s claim that his campaign is rooted in compassion. Their Nov. 3 contest will test whether a less confrontational form of conservative billionaire politics can coexist with — or provide an alternative to — Trump’s combative populism in an important swing state.
Jackson was scheduled to appear with Trump at a rally Saturday in Perry, marking his second joint appearance with the president during the final stretch of the campaign.
‘From foster care to billionaire’
“My father left me at nine months old. My mother was a sixth-grade educated waitress with a severe alcohol problem,” Jackson said during the only debate of the general election campaign. “I had seven stepfathers before I was 12. I lived in the projects, went to 13 different schools, and lived in five different foster homes.”
At 21, he left college to launch a company. That venture eventually grew into Jackson Healthcare, a massive provider of contract nurses and other hospital and health-system workers. The company has also secured contracts with public entities, taxpayer-funded business that helped build Jackson’s fortune.
At campaign events, Jackson often presents an even more intimate version of his story.
“I have, because of my background, severe abandonment issues,” he told several hundred voters in Cleveland, a conservative community in the north Georgia mountains. He quickly turned that admission into a pledge: “Let me tell you one thing: I will never abandon you.”
Rags-to-riches narratives are a familiar feature of American politics, and Jackson has distilled his version into the slogan “From foster care to billionaire.” Still, the amount of money behind the campaign is extraordinary. Jackson has personally spent nearly $200 million, placing him among the biggest self-funding candidates in U.S. election history.
Even when discussing his wealth, however, Jackson works to move beyond the standard image of the billionaire businessman.
“It’s not my money,” he said in a northern Atlanta suburb. Jackson describes his fortune as “God’s money” and says his responsibility is to create “kingdom impact” with it.
“The reason I have spent so much money to do this,” he said, is to “help 11 million Georgians, to keep them from struggling.”
A range of images over a long campaign
Jackson entered the race with little name recognition among the broader public, although political insiders were familiar with him through Jackson Healthcare, its profitable state contracts and his lobbying on healthcare, business and tax policy.
The Republican primary included three statewide elected officials, among them Lt. Gov. Burt Jones. Trump endorsed Jones in August 2025, before Jackson entered the contest.
Although Trump had not chosen him, Jackson aligned himself closely with the president during the primary. At times, he said he would “be like Trump, but with Southern tone.” He also promised to “deliver for Georgia the same type of business solutions that President Trump is bringing to our country.”
On immigration, Jackson largely echoed Trump’s position, pledging to turn Georgia into a national leader in deportations.
“I don’t care if you’re Muslim or Mongolian, you don’t have the right to force your culture on our country,” he said in one ad. “Criminal illegals” who “commit sick, violent crimes” would “end up deported or departed,” he promised.
Soon after defeating Jones in a runoff, Jackson shelved the immigration ad, but not before using it as part of a spot featuring his grandchildren. “Granddad, why do you look so mean in these ads?” one asks after watching the “deported or departed” clip on her phone. The children and teenagers then tell their grandfather how he can “look cool” with a pickup truck, a dog and a hipper wardrobe.
“Let’s make Georgia better together,” the redressed Jackson concludes.
He has since circulated an ad with several young adults who benefited from the millions he spent helping foster children who age out of the Georgia system when they turn 18. “I am so proud of you,” he tells them as he chokes up.
On policy, Republican fare and centrist appeals
As he softens his image, Jackson maintains traditional Republican positions, pledging to cut taxes, regulation and what he describes as waste. If he cannot halve the state income tax in four years, he promises not to seek a second term. He wants a balanced budget and full audits of state spending, without saying state law requires a balanced budget and audits of state agencies have long been standard practice.
He says he will expand healthcare without expanding Medicaid under the 2010 Affordable Care Act. Instead, he argues he can fund broader coverage through partnerships with private insurers. That would require Washington to grant permission and commit a level of financial support that no state has gotten without expanding the traditional Medicaid program.
Jackson says he can do all of that while increasing spending on teacher salaries and vocational education.
At the same time, he has toned down his Trump adulation, reflecting Georgia’s general election math and voters’ frustrations with the Iran war and inflation.
In July, Jackson stood with Trump in Marietta and expressed his hope to “be this guy’s favorite governor.” When Trump returned to Dalton on Oct. 16, Jackson did not mention Trump at all in his own speech. Later, when the president called him on stage, Jackson praised Trump — for advocating for foster children. When Trump announced that he would be back to Georgia on Saturday, Jackson’s campaign initially planned its own event in metro Atlanta before changing it up so Jackson would again be with the president.
Bottoms disputes Jackson’s everyman appeal
Bottoms says Jackson is “trying to buy this election” so he can be a Trump stooge. And Democrats have seized on the way that Jackson has talked about the economy.
Discussing trade schools, Jackson said on the debate stage that “my plumber drives a Mercedes.” Discussing inflation and crime during his town hall-style debate with Bottoms, he suggested Atlantans felt unsafe “at the gas store” during her tenure. When a citizen in the debate audience asked Jackson about minimum wage and affording basic necessities, Jackson told her, “Hopefully, you’re not the one that is getting the $7.50 an hour.”
Minimum wage is $7.25. Bottoms has proposed doubling it. Jackson has not proposed any increase. “My focus is creating jobs,” he said. “I’ve been creating jobs my entire life.”
Jackson’s balancing act is enough for Debbie Satterfield, a 72-year-old who came to a Jackson rally in White County wearing both a Trump shirt and a Jackson sticker.
“When I heard about his harsh upbringing, and to hear how far he had climbed, and starting from nothing,” she said. “It reminds me of my life starting with nothing. You can see his soul.”
Copyright 2026 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.