A Just Cause

by Sieracki, Bernard; Edgar, Jim;

  The prosecutor again asked Special Agent Cain if everything just stated from the criminal complaint was true and accurate to the best of his knowledge. He answered yes. Ellis then asked if the governor’s voice had been identified, using the identification procedures outlined in previous questioning. Again Cain answered yes. The prosecutor was attempting to establish certainty, to leave no doubt that the governor had said the things just related. But these questions to Cain were merely procedural. For the sitting senators, there was no doubt that the governor had said those things.

  Quoting from the affidavit accompanying the criminal complaint, Ellis displayed a train of criminal allegations that stretched back to Rod Blagojevich’s first year in office and continued until his arrest. The governor had turned the state government over to criminal advisors, and from the affidavit, the prosecutor recounted incident after incident of extortion, including the emotionally charged efforts to barter the senate seat and withhold allocated funds from Children’s Memorial Hospital.

  The prosecution announced that one more topic would be addressed: the horse-racing bill. Ellis set the stage, telling the senate what they were about to hear, using a tape of the governor discussing his plot to extort money from an executive at Balmoral Park, a horse-racing track in south suburban Chicago. On November 13, 2008, when the first conversation was intercepted, HB 4758, the bill that would direct a percentage of casino revenue to the horse-racing industry, was still being debated and still being advocated by its supporters in Springfield. The governor wanted the horse-racing industry to make a contribution if the bill passed and he signed it before the end of the year. Ellis summarized a series of phone conversations between the governor, his brother, and Lon Monk regarding the squeeze play with John Johnston, an executive at Balmoral Park identified in the affidavit as Contributor 1 (266).

  Ellis now informed Chief Justice Fitzgerald that it was his intent to play the tape recordings, and Fitzgerald told him to proceed as he wished. The first recording was a phone conversation between parties whom Ellis identified as the governor and his brother, Robert, obtained by using a wiretap on the governor’s home phone. The senate chamber was silent, mesmerized by hearing portions of the evidence spoken by actual voices for the first time. Everyone seemed to assume the temporary persona of an eavesdropper, listening to a private conversation between the governor and his brother. The fascination with the circumstance seemed to overcome any moral reluctance.

  The conversation opened with the two brothers exchanging the greeting “Hey.” Then the governor got right to the point and asked, “How we doing?” Robert said they were good and that Lon had talked to John Johnston and that Johnston was “good for it.” But then he added a caveat. The contribution was forthcoming but, “ya know, he didn’t get it. But he said, ya know, I’m good for it.” Robert explained that Johnston had told Lon Monk he just had to decide what accounts to use. “Lon’s going to talk to you about some sensitivities legislatively tonight when he sees you,” he told the governor, “with regard to the timing of all this.” The governor was concerned: “Right—before the end of the year though, right?” Robert reassured the governor and told him that Lon Monk would give him the details that evening, “when he sees you.” The governor asked if Monk would meet him that night, and Robert informed the governor that Monk would join him at a basketball game at the United Center. Attempting to rationalize the delay in receiving the contribution, the governor mentioned that Monk and Johnston were in Springfield, “pushing the bill.” The governor stated, “Yeah, they’re pushing a bill. So that’s probably what he wants to wait on” (270–71). The exchange made clear that the governor was obsessed with getting the contribution before the end of the year, before the campaign restrictions became law.

  Ellis moved on to the second tape, a conversation between Lon Monk and John Johnston recorded from Monk’s cell phone. Monk called Johnston, and after the two exchanged greetings, Johnston informed Monk that he had previously called and was just “checking in.” Monk asked Johnston, “Where are you right now?” Johnston said he was at the track, and Monk asked if he could come and see him. Johnston said yes, and Monk told Johnston that he would be there in about forty-five minutes. Attempting to describe evolving events, the prosecutor told the senate that the call took place at 2:21 P.M. on December 3, 2008 (271–72).

  He then went on to the third tape recording, a call from Monk’s cell phone to Rod Blagojevich at his campaign office, recorded at 4:11 P.M. the same day. Monk told the governor that he had asked Johnston, “What about your commitment?” Johnston answered that he would be leaving town in two weeks and would be gone for two weeks. “I know that I have to have this in your hand by the end of those two weeks,” Johnston told him. Monk, expressing some concern about Johnston’s delay, told the governor that he said to Johnston, “Look, there’s [concern] that there’s gonna be some skittishness if your bill gets signed because of the timeliness of the commitment.” Johnston responded, “Absolutely not,” and then hedging a bit, asked, “Do you want me to put some into the next quarter?” Monk reported to the governor that he told Johnston, “This has all gotta be in now.” Paraphrasing Johnston, Monk told the governor that he said, “I hope I’m gonna have it next week, but you have my commitment. I’ve always been there. I’m gonna be there. I’ve gotta have it in the next two weeks cause I’m going out of town.” At the end of the recorded conversation, the governor said to Monk, “Good job” (272–74).

  The senate audience remained fiercely attentive. They were familiar with the governor and with his voice. The impact of hearing the governor seemingly totally obsessed with contributions, scheming to obtain money before the end of the year, resounded and challenged the moral sensibilities of even the most jaded among them. The tape recordings accomplished what Ellis had hoped: they provided evidence that went beyond an abstract allegation to the actual enactment of wrongdoing.

  The final intercepted conversation to which Ellis had been given access was another conversation between Monk and Blagojevich recorded from Monk’s cell phone. The next day, December 4, they spoke again of obtaining a contribution from John Johnston. Monk, the lobbyist for Balmoral Park, thought a call from the governor might serve to motivate Johnston to make the contribution. Blagojevich opened the dialogue with his familiar, “Hey, Lon.” Monk hesitated but finally got to the point: “So one thing I was thinking about last night is that, um, you ought to give, not today, but maybe tomorrow, just give John Johnston a call and say, you know, calling just to say hello, um, you know, I’m working on the timing of this thing, but it’s gonna get done.” Blagojevich responded, “Okay,” then asked, “Call him tomorrow?” Monk replied, “It’s a two-minute conversation.” Blagojevich said, “Yeah, happy to do it. Call him tomorrow, right?” The governor then questioned the strategy; “Okay. Call Johnny Johnston, or should I call—have Harris call him?” Monk hesitated and Blagojevich continued, “I mean, you want me to call him directly, I will, whatever’s the best thing. I’m just a little bit—.” Monk quickly said, “I think it’s better if you do it. . . . It’s better if you do it just from a pressure point of view.” Blagojevich relented and told Monk he would call and use as a ruse that he wanted to do a bill signing downstate and they could get together and start picking some dates. Monk asked the governor what the chances were of signing the bill the next week, and Blagojevich responded, “You know, they’re good.” Monk reinforced that the contribution was coming: “He’s—I’m telling you he’s gonna be good for it. I got in his face.” Balmoral Park was Monk’s client, but his allegiance was to Blagojevich (274–76).23

  At the completion of the taped call, Ellis passed out transcripts of all four calls. The prosecutor and Chief Justice Fitzgerald discussed whether the tapes should be played again with each member of the senate having a transcript. Ellis initially said he would like to play the tapes again but then decided not to. Fitzgerald announced, in conjunction with Senate Resolution 7, that the governor or his counsel
had the right to cross-examine the witness. But neither the governor nor anyone representing him was present, and the chief justice excused Cain. John Cullerton and Christine Radogno then asked that the parties be allowed to caucus to formulate questions to ask Cain. The senate recessed and each party met in caucus.

  When the senate returned, Fitzgerald announced that “the body,” meaning the senate, had requested that the tapes be played again. Ellis was ready and went right to the tapes, again introducing each phone conversation. Hearing the tapes played the first time had left the senators overwhelmed; as the tapes played a second time, with the senators following the printed transcripts, the gravity of what they were hearing became even clearer.

  The trial had reached the point where senate members could ask questions of the witness, and Daniel Cain resumed his place at the witness stand. According to the senate trial rules, the senators were prohibited from discussing the trial before and during the proceedings. The questioning of Cain was the first indication of each senator’s individual disposition, and many seemed anxious to publicly display their inclinations. Each member of the senate who wished to ask a question was required to submit it in writing to the chief justice, who would then read the question to the witness. Cain was again accompanied to the witness stand by Assistant US Attorney Thomas Walsh. Fitzgerald explained that legal restrictions prevented the disclosure of information collected in the course of a federal crime. Cain was authorized to testify only whether the affidavit that he executed was accurate to the best of his knowledge. He was not permitted to provide additional details or any other conversations, speculate, or give his opinion. The senators had many questions, but with the restrictions in place, Cain was not able to answer the majority of them.

  Nevertheless, the senators presented questions knowing that they would not receive an answer from Cain, and what they asked served to divulge their attitudes. The questions were wide-ranging but fell into four basic categories: some solicited more information than was contained in the affidavit, some addressed the procedures used to obtain the recordings, others were made as statements to disparage Rod Blagojevich, and still others seemed motivated by partisanship.

  Senator Larry Bomke, a Republican from Springfield, read a section of the affidavit to reiterate a charge and asked Cain if it was correct. Cain answered that Bomke’s statement was correct (304–5). Senator Michael Bond, a Democrat from Grayslake, asked if it was “fair to say” that Blagojevich did not wish to be governor (292). Senator Frank Watson, a Republican from Greenville, asked Cain if he was aware that the governor and his attorneys were given an unredacted version of the conversations referred to in the affidavit, and that neither the governor nor his attorneys would come before the senate to refute or explain the conversations. Cain would not answer or comment on either question (301–2). A moment of comic relief broke through the intense atmosphere after Senator Gary Dahl, a Republican from Granville, asked if any members of the senate tribunal were on the wiretaps. Walsh said that was a question that could not be answered, and an unidentified voice was heard muttering, “Thank God” (292–93). The remark elicited smiles and muffled laughter.

  Not all senate members, however, were keen on removing the governor. Showing a reluctance to take the consequential step of removal, Senator Mike Jacobs, a Democrat from East Moline, asked Cain, “Is the Governor’s ability to appoint someone to the U.S. Senate seat a thing of value sufficient to support a criminal conspiracy?” (315). Cain would not address the question. The last two questions were from John Millner, a Republican from Carol Stream, and Heather Steans, a Democrat from Chicago. Millner brought a sense of authority with his presence. He was a former police chief of Elmhurst and was genuinely liked and respected by those on both sides of the aisle. He asked a four-part question dealing with the accuracy of the governor’s statements and the oath Cain took when he signed the affidavit. He suggested that Cain took his oath “very seriously” and would not have allowed statements into the affidavit that were not true. The witness seemed ready for the question and responded affirmatively. Justice Fitzgerald, surprisingly, assisted Cain’s answer and asked him to read paragraph 117, the conclusion of his affidavit. Cain read the damning conclusion (324–27).24 The final question, from Steans, was whether the affidavit “accurately reflected what was heard on the various wiretaps and microphones.” Cain answered yes (327–28). With that, the senate’s questions were concluded, and Fitzgerald excused Cain.

  Of the sixty-three questions asked by the senators, most had not been answered by Cain, but there was a sense in the senate chamber that the verdict was already in. Outside of Jacobs’s question, which seemed motivated more by reluctance to remove the governor than a desire to defend him, none of the senators had offered support for Blagojevich or questioned the accuracy of the criminal complaint.

  The trial was progressing as a dynamic event with the calling of the next witness. Ellis had carefully chosen this witness, having rethought his strategy after he was given access to a portion of the tapes. The governor’s decision not to participate had made the use of house members as witnesses problematic. Still, to address the pay-to-play impeachment charges that resulted from the testimonies by Ata and Cari at the Rezko trial, Ellis felt that he needed a real person before the senate to make the testimony come alive. He needed someone to ensure that the written statements of Ata and Cari had maximum effect on the senate. To address the testimony as a witness for the prosecution, it was best to have an attorney, someone who could not only address the testimony as it was presented during the trial but also interpret the events that had led up to the cooperation of Ata and Cari and explain the consequential factors that ensured the accuracy of their remarks. Chapin Rose, a member of the house investigative committee, a former assistant state’s attorney from Champaign County, and most important, a Republican, seemed the logical choice. It was important that the senate trial be conducted in a nonpartisan manner, but controlling individual members was always on the minds of party leaders Cullerton and Radogno. Some of the house members introduced by Ellis the day before could have prompted some Republicans to drift into partisan posturing. The Republican Rose negated that scenario.

  Rose was questioned by Michael Kasper, a former counsel to the Speaker. Competent and trusted by the Speaker, Kasper had been asked to assist in the trial on a pro bono basis.25 Copies of Ata’s and Cari’s Rezko trial testimony were passed out. Before beginning to ask specific questions about the testimony, Kasper wanted to establish that the two men, both of whom had admitted to committing crimes, had been telling the truth when they testified in the Rezko trial. He asked Rose a series of questions regarding the incentives of both men to be truthful. Rose explained that the two had not been sentenced but agreed to cooperate with the federal authorities. Presumably, in exchange for their truthful testimony, they would receive reduced sentences.

  Kasper took Rose through the testimony in some detail. He began with Ata’s and recalled, once again, Ata’s encounters with Rezko and Rezko’s requests for contributions. Ata had testified that the governor, speaking of a future position for Ata, had said, “He hoped that whatever the position might be, it was one that he could make some money at.” Kasper asked Rose what had taken place after the governor’s remarks, and Rose said that Rezko had informed Ata that he would be offered a position with the newly created Illinois Finance Authority and that someone from the administration would contact him. Ata was contacted and met with the governor’s chief budget director. After the meeting, he accepted the IFA position. Ata testified that Tony Rezko later informed him that he should report to Rezko, and Ata agreed to have regular meetings with Rezko (341–43).

  The senate had heard the tale before, and it remained the weakest of all the charges. Rewarding loyal supporters was an intricate part of American politics and has been widely practiced since the country’s founding. There was no evidence of a direct quid pro quo. The governor never said, “You are getting this job because of the money yo
u donated,” and Rezko never said, “If you donate the amount I have requested, you will get a job.” The governor’s comment about Ata making money could have been in reference to Ata’s financial well-being. The exchange with the governor and the discussions with Rezko certainly cast suspicions concerning the methods of governance within the Blagojevich administration, but it would be difficult to prove that a crime was committed.

  Kasper moved on to Cari’s testimony, which was much more clear-cut than Ata’s, with its nebulous statements. Cari’s acts had involved intimidation, extortion, and a clear pattern of pay to play. Most of all, his testimony included remarks, allegedly made by the governor, about schemes to exchange contracts for contributions. Cari’s trial testimony was reviewed in greater detail than it had previously been during the house investigative committee hearings, with more of it being made public. Kasper asked how Joseph Cari first became involved with the governor’s “political committee.” Rose answered that Cari testified that he was asked by David Wilhelm, a former head of the national Democratic Party, to meet “some of the key players around Governor Blagojevich,” mainly Chris Kelly and Tony Rezko. Blagojevich was considering running for president, and Cari, who had been a former Democratic National Committee finance chairman, would be a good person with whom to discuss “what it takes to run a national campaign.” Cari subsequently met with Kelly and then Stuart Levine. Later, Wilhelm called Cari and asked him to arrange a fund-raiser in New York, and Cari, whose “law firm did a lot of business with the State of Illinois,” agreed. Kasper asked Rose about the plane Levine had procured to fly the governor and a small entourage to New York. Cari said he was asked to join the group on the plane. During the flight, the governor told Cari that it was better to run for president as governor than as a sitting US senator because governors “could award contracts to people who helped to raise funds.” Kasper seized on the contract awards—this was definitely pay to play. With a quickened voice, he asked Rose a series of questions intended to provide the senate with a clear understanding of the type of contracts: “State contracts for legal work?” “And advisory work?” “And consulting work?” And finally, “And investment banking work?” Rose answered yes to each (344–52).