Conrad was beginning to suspect that Worthington’s obsession with Green was fueled by something more than he professed. Worthington must have some other agenda that had nothing to do with Conrad’s campaign for governor, or Green’s apparent lack of regard for the power of the NRA and the right to bear arms. Worthington thought that he could manipulate him and shape the outcome of the election. He had seriously underestimated Conrad. Conrad was not an idiot, despite his lack of judgment when it came to his granddaughter. There had been other missteps as well. He wondered again why he had made the calls to Nicky? What the hell had he been thinking?
Conrad would have to get his act together. He looked at the picture of his wife and son. Did he really want to be governor? Was it worth the trouble? After all, he didn’t need the money. He wasn’t really keen on the job. He only agreed to run because the party believed it had no viable candidate with state wide recognition to run for the office that Slattery would be vacating. Could it be true that the State Republican party had no one else?
Conrad for all his faults truly believed the Commonwealth had suffered from the excesses of the Slattery Administration over the last seven years. The economy was in tatters. Revenues were down and there was no way to continue without serious cuts in spending or increasing taxes. He realized that both had to occur despite the advice of his campaign handlers. He knew it was both irrational and dishonest to claim the state government could cut its way back to prosperity. His advisors believed the voters were stupid and would vote against their own self interests. Perhaps this strategy would work in the short term, but eventually the citizens would see through all of this.
It hadn’t been this way when Conrad had started out. His father set the plan in place. First serve as District Attorney of Wilkes-Barre. Next move up to Attorney General, then Governor and then the sky’s the limit. He had it all. A beautiful wife and a son any father would be proud of. All of it had gone to hell one rain slicked night on the interstate.
Worthington could hear it in Conrad’s voice. Did that stiff necked prick Conrad think he could play him? Maybe it was time for Conrad to be taken down a peg or two. It’s too bad Cinaglia was out of play. Worthington could always count on that scumbag for a dirty trick to help keep the true believers in check. Cinaglia was a player, maybe the ultimate player.
Conrad was a rube. That fucking egomaniac really believed he would become governor and use that as a stepping stone to national prominence. Yeah it was too bad his wife and son were killed. But it’s long past time for him to move on. Christ the same thing happened to the vice president. He moved on. Maybe that’s the real difference between democrats and republicans.
Worthington thought there must be something more. After all it was unnatural for a man in his prime to remain in mourning for nearly a decade. He had heard rumors that Conrad was light in his loafers. Could it be true? Did Conrad bat from both sides of the plate?
Worthington needed to find out more about that. There may be an angle he could use to regain control of this situation. He also needed to know more about the White Haven Detention Center investigation. It was looking like the AG’s office was not in the loop. That fucking Philadelphia District Attorney had nosed her way into the investigation, and the U.S. Attorney in Scranton and the FBI were keeping everything close to the vest.
And wouldn’t you know fucking Bernie Green and his law firm are right in the middle of it all stirring the shit with a class action on behalf of the poor detainees? His partners in crime the dis-Honorable DiPasqualle and Adams and Adams’ son were no doubt trying to cut deals for themselves. Those cocksuckers would give Worthington up in a New York minute. Had Worthington insulated himself sufficiently to skate out of that mess?
The set up had been so easy. Samantha had gotten DiPasqualli’s attention so to speak without breaking a sweat. Worthington didn’t think she even had to exert herself to convince the judge that a whole new world was possible if he had the money. After she introduced the Judge to Worthington and DiPasqualli in turn introduced him to Adams, Worthington explained how the detention scam would make them all rich. If the judges hadn’t been so greedy and stupid the scared shitless program could have gone on for decades.
And where the hell was Samantha Binnager?
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Court Reconvenes
Eight weeks to the day after the dramatic start to the trial Judge Peskin gaveled the proceedings to order. Anthony Cinaglia looking tan and fit with no apparent signs of having suffered a heart attack, sat next to his attorney. Robert Blackburn the U.S. Attorney a smirk fixed firmly on his face glared at Cinaglia. The court room was packed with spectators seated in order of their respective rank and privilege to near standing room capacity.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for honoring my request that you refrain from reading news paper stories and watching reports on the internet and on television about the case during the unfortunate delay in the trial. We are, all of us, the defendant and the government, depending on your candor and impartiality,” the judge said smiling at the members of the jury.
“Mr. Blackburn, is the government ready to proceed?”
And with that I watched as Blackburn launched his attack on the former Prince of South Philadelphia. His opening remarks promised the jurors they would hear compelling evidence that would prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant had committed repeated and virtually countless acts that breached the public trust and abused his office in violation of numerous federal laws. Defense counsel cautioned the jury to carefully consider the testimony and not be swayed by the hyperbole of the prosecutor’s opening statement. According to the defense, at the end of the day the jury would find that the Government’s case is a lot of noise with no real substance.
Blackburn’s first witness was Salvatore DiSilva, former personal aide to the senator who happened also to be the senator’s son-in-law. DiSilva was married to Cinaglia’s eldest daughter, the only child of his first marriage. Cinaglia had been married twice more, all of his marriages had resulted in divorce. Cinaglia ever the optimist was engaged to be wed again following the trial. Both the daughter and his first wife had dissociated themselves from the senator. Both sat directly behind the prosecutor’s counsel table ignoring the defendant/ father/ former spouse.
Blackburn led DiSilva through two full days of testimony in which the son-in-law/aide described a veritable avalanche of allegations involving misuse of government funds and personnel for personal and non state related purposes. While, to be fair, the vast majority of the individual acts were of such minor dimensions as to be inconsequential, in their entirety, however, the multitude of misdemeanors demonstrated a complete disregard of the line between personal and official business that bordered on contempt for the public trust. According to DiSilva the senator used the acronym “OPM”, other peoples’ money, for all expenditures.
“Bernie, Cinaglia never paid for anything out of his own pocket. Jesus, he even used OPM to buy condoms!” the governor said in obvious admiration of Cinaglia’s hutzpah.
The governor and Mike Bollinger and I watched as Jack Silver, Cinaglia’s lawyer approached the lectern to begin his cross examination of the senator’s son-in-law. Silver stared at the witness conveying an air of contempt that was almost palpable. Among the criminal defense bar there was nothing lower than a rat. The government’s witness, a member of the senator’s family had turned on his benefactor; such an act of treachery was unthinkable.
“Mr. DiSilva,” Silver spat out the name making it sound like a curse. “What is your current employment status?”
“I’m unemployed.”
“Have you worked anywhere since the senator let you go?”
“No sir.”
“Have you even looked for a job?”
“Objection!” Blackburn stood up. “Your Honor what relevance does Mr. DiSilva’s current employment status have to these proceedings?”
Judge Peskin looked over to defense coun
sel with one eyebrow raised.
“Your Honor, this is merely a preliminary line of inquiry to establish that the witness’ employability was completely dependent upon my client’s influence.”
“I’ll allow some leeway, but Mr. Silver, please move this along. Objection overruled.”
“So Mr. DiSilva, is it fair to say that without the senator’s influence your job prospects are somewhat difficult?”
“No sir, I’m waiting to hear from the U.S. Attorney’s office on a position.”
Silver turned to the jury and asked, “Are you saying you have been promised a position with Mr. Blackburn’s office in return for your testimony?”
“Objection,” Blackburn jumped to his feet. Perspiration was beginning to run down the side of the witness’ face and his eyes betrayed a look of panic.
“Counsel approach,” the judge called the two attorneys to the bench on the opposite side from the jury box.
“Mr. Silver, do you have proof that the witness has been offered a position with the Justice Department in return for his testimony? If you do I will let you proceed along this line; if not I suggest you terminate the inquiry.” The judge spoke in a hushed tone.
“Your honor, I’ll move to a different subject for the present.” Silver responded, knowing that he had planted the seed that the witness had been tainted with the jury.
“Judge, that’s not good enough, defense counsel has raised the implication that there is some improper quid pro quo for the witness’ testimony.”
‘Your Honor, counsel for the Government can surely address any such implication on redirect,” Silver said with a smile. He knew that Blackburn’s mere mention of the subject would only bring further attention to a possible taint.
Judge Peskin nodded. “I think Mr. Silver has made his point. Mr. Silver, I appreciate good advocacy, however, there is a limit to my patience. You may step back.”
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, defense counsel is going to move to a new line of inquiry. Please do not read anything beyond the witness’ testimony to the fact that the change in questioning occurred following my conferring with counsel.”
“Mr. DiSilva, before you went to work for the senator where did you work?”
“I worked for PennDot.”
“And who recommended you for the position?”
“The senator.”
“How long did you work there?”
“A little less than a year.”
“And why did you leave your position there?”
“Well, you could say that there was a difference of opinion between me and my manager.”
Silver looked at him. “Could you also say that your manager was going to fire you because you misrepresented your position to obtain an ‘honorarium’ from some vendors?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” DiSilva avoided eye contact with the jury.
“OK, and where did you work before your job at PennDot?”
“I clerked for a judge in Philadelphia.”
“And did the senator recommend you for that position as well?”
“Yes sir.”
“How long did you work as a judge’s clerk?”
“Around six months.”
“Aren’t judicial clerkships for at least one year?”
“Yes, well the judge and I did not see eye to eye on matters of jurisprudence.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I suggested that the judge rule in a certain manner in a case and he disagreed.”
“Was this a case involving an associate of yours, a Mr. Masamino, who the judge was going to sentence on a case of aggravated assault?”
“Yes, I believe that was the case.”
“Mr. DiSilva, the judge referred the matter to the disciplinary board didn’t he?”
“Yes sir.”
“And Mr. DiSilva, didn’t the senator intervene on your behalf and as a result that matter was quashed?”
“Yes sir.”
“So when he ran out of places to stash you, he had to hire you himself?” “Objection.”
“Withdrawn.”
“Mr. DiSilva, what was your first position with the senator?”
“I worked as an assistant in his Harrisburg Office?”
“You had to be reassigned from that position because of a sexual harassment complaint, didn’t you?”
“There was a misunderstanding.”
DiSilva’s wife’s face turned beet red and the witness looked down at his lap.
“OK, another misunderstanding, I see,” Silver nodded his head and sounded understanding.
“Perhaps your perception of what you observed as described in your testimony was also a misunderstanding.”
“Silver is slicing and dicing Cinaglia’s son-in-law. I bet by the time he’s finished the jury won’t believe a word of his direct examination,” the governor whispered.
Defense counsel spent the next two hours hammering away at the witness’ credibility. The inquiry exposed every blemish and wrinkle in DiSilva’s recitation of the senator’s activities.
“So, Mr. DiSilva, you do not actually know if any of the items you purchased for the senator’s personal use were paid for by public funds, isn’t that true.”
“Yes sir that’s true.”
“Mr. DiSilva, the last assignment you fulfilled for the senator was to drive him to his various appointments and stand by if he needed anything is that right?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you served in that capacity for almost an entire year; is that right?”
“Yes.”
“In that job you were present and witnessed the senator in numerous meetings with other politicians and lobbyists, is that right?”
“Yes sir.”
“And during that time you overheard the senator make hundreds of telephone calls involving many sensitive topics, true?”
“Yes sir.”
“Now during practically the entire time you worked in that proximity to the senator you wore a device that permitted the prosecutor’s investigators and the FBI to record all of the senator’s conversations, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“There were literally thousands of conversations weren’t there.”
“Yes.”
“Hundreds and hundreds of hours of the senator conversing with god knows who about god knows what; is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And during all of those conversations you witnessed as the senator’s personal aide and as a member of his family, you never once heard him say anything about accepting money or anything of value in return for a favor or using his influence to benefit a private interest, isn’t that true?”
“Yes sir.”
“And if you heard any such conversation, it would have been recorded on the device that was concealed on your body; I think it’s generally referred to as a wire?”
“Yes sir.”
“And by the way, people – lobbyists and politicians and others asked the senator for favors or to use his influence to help them- that happened on numerous occasions, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And sometimes the senator would agree to help and sometimes he would decline.”
“Yes.”
“On those occasions the senator agreed to help you never saw him accept any money or anything of value, did you?”
“No sir.”
“And if you had, that would have been recorded on the wire you were wearing, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes sir.”
“You never saw the senator give anyone money or anything of value to influence them to do what the senator asked of them either, isn’t that true?”
“Yes that’s true.”
“And once again, had there been any such transactions that you witnessed, that would have been recorded on the wire that was concealed on your person, right?”
“Yes sir.”
“So let me get this straight,” Silver spoke as he turned his back o
n the witness to face the jury, “you recorded thousands of conversations and meetings that you witnessed during the year you were the senator’s driver and personal assistant and there is not a single recording that documents an illegal act or unethical conduct by the senator. Is that right?”
“Nothing on the tapes. But there were…”
“Thank you no further questions.”
“Oh, he’s good, very fucking good.” The governor said and smiled at me.
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
There’s Been a Development
When I returned to the District office Carlota told me the District Attorney had called and asked that I call her as soon as possible.
“There’s been a development in the White Haven investigation. Julian Adams, the judge’s son copped a plea in return for a lighter sentence,” Susan Romansky told me.
“Finally,” I knew that sooner or later one of the defendants would break. “So what’s the deal?”
“According to Adams, the entire scheme was Robert Worthington’s idea. He said that neither his father nor DiPasualli had the smarts or connections necessary to set it up. Adams also claims that Worthington took the lion’s share of the profits.”
“That explains a lot,” I replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Now I understand why Worthington was so angry with me. It had nothing to do with my politics. It was all because I went to bat for a kid in my District and that led to the investigation of the judges after Mike Zeebooker discovered the sentencing patterns. That started the investigation that he realized would eventually lead to him. Is the task force going to move on Worthington?”
“Not yet. You know the Feds they never make a move until they have an air tight case. At present all they have is Julian Adams’ statement. They want confirmation from one of the other defendants or some documentation that conclusively ties Worthington to the conspiracy.”
“So what’s going to happen next?” I asked.
The Pa-la-ti-'shan Page 26