The session should have been simple. We were there to waive our right to a preliminary examination and then a conduct a hearing on my bond provisions. The Prosecutor, Kym Worthy, wanted to restrict my travel to the State of Michigan. She and her cohorts were always biting at me about something.
The first issue was the waiver of the preliminary exam. The arguments were going just fine, at first. The prosecution and defense teams had an agreement, and both had stated it for the record. The judge was moving the proceeding in what seemed to be a normal direction. I remained patient, thinking, “Let’s see how this turns out.” I stood, verbally waived my right to a preliminary examination, and sat back down. It was a very simple action. And then, something far less simple happened.
Attorneys for the Detroit Free Press and The Detroit News, from the back of the courtroom, stood and demanded to be heard. They were not parties to this case, and were not representing anyone involved. They had no standing, but this was the fourth time that they had been allowed by this Judge, Ron Giles, to interject in the proceedings. Giles was a new judge. He’d only been seated for a few months, after several unsuccessful bids for election to the post. He was nervous as hell, and shaking like Don Knotts. He’d started off strong in the case, but the newspapers focused on him soon after, suggesting that I was a close associate of his wife, Joyce, who was a senior executive at DTE Energy. I knew her, but we were far from “close” or “associated.” The day after the papers suggested that, he chummed up to the prosecutors, laughing at phantom jokes. I waived the preliminary exam just to get out of his courtroom, and closer to some semblance of fairness.
I’d been told that none of the lawyers or judges around town had ever seen anything like the proceedings in this case before, but this had become somewhat “normal” in my case. Still, Giles allowed them to put their appearances on the record and make arguments for the sealed (they were still calling them “secret”) text messages to become public. They made a full argument, after acknowledging that they truly didn’t have a standing in the case! Judge Giles also asked them several questions and wouldn’t allow my attorneys to object or interject anything. As a matter of fact, he asked my lawyers to be quiet! I was now, in a State proceeding, being prosecuted by not only the Wayne County prosecutor’s office, but by the Detroit newspapers’ attorneys. Unprecedented! But this is normal. For me.
It had also become normal for the prosecution to fail to keep its word on any agreement brokered throughout the entire process. Giles never once held those attorneys accountable to orderly court procedure. And maybe I shouldn’t have expected him to. Alas, late former Detroit Mayor Coleman Young once said, “You don’t grow balls. You either have them or you don’t.” Let’s just say a swift knee to Judge Giles’ groin may piss him off, but I don’t think it would hurt.
The bond hearing began, and the prosecution brought their formal motion to revoke all my travel outside the State of Michigan. No one seemed to care about the significance of City business. My reason for going to Canada was hardly acknowledged, much less considered. Instead, the prosecutor began to verbally batter me in an almost surprising manner.
She called me a criminal. She called me arrogant. She said I disrespected the law and the legal process. She said I needed to be taught a lesson. My attorney, Jim Thomas, stood and gave a rebuttal, if I can call it that. He knew that I was technically in the wrong, but he couldn’t figure out how to argue. Jim’s an excellent attorney, but I knew at that very moment that he was tired. The media scrutiny and pressure was gradually overwhelming him. The courtroom rumbled with a low noise when the judge asked whether Jim knew that I had gone to Windsor. I’d called him from Windsor as soon as my mistake dawned on me. Jim mumbled, stuttered and half-answered. I couldn’t tell if he said he knew or not. But I was perplexed. I had told him the truth.
I understand attorney/client privilege, but this was a critical moment. He needed to stand up! Heck, at least ask to approach the bench and talk to the judge! He didn’t, though, and I realized that I was alone on the legal front. Not only would there be no fairness, but it was going to be impossible for me to get justice.
The judge then stopped the proceedings and asked all of the attorneys to gather in his chambers. After about fifteen minutes, they all emerged from the room together. The look on my attorney’s face reminded me of the first time that I saw The Exorcist. Pure fear! He was so scared and nervous that I wanted to slap him and tell him to pull himself together. No need, because he leaned over and told me that I was going to jail.
Jail!? Wow! At that moment I knew that I had to speak for myself. I was drained, and had no address prepared, but I refused to go quietly. So I asked to speak.
First of all, Judge, let me say that I apologize. This is not at all a front to you, or this court. I don’t believe that there’s ever been a person who’s ever been through this process that respects it more than I do.
I’ve been living in an incredible state of pressure and scrutiny for seven months. And I know Your Honor has, as well. And I want to thank you for serving, for what you’ve done in this court.
Last week was a tremendous wake-up call for me in two respects. One, you said as the Mayor of this city, as a lawyer and member of the Bar, I should not have put myself in that position. Whatever the facts were you said about what happened—which, of course, we disagree with—you were right, Your Honor. I remain in agreement with you on that.
What I’ve been doing, to the best of my ability, when I wake up in the morning, is trying to make sure that the importance of this court and these proceedings are intact. I’ve always been on time. I’ve always listened to my attorneys in everything that we’re doing. I hear Your Honor’s ruling. But I’ve also been trying to be a good Mayor, at the same time, even with incredible odds, and incredible scrutiny.
In the city of Detroit we have been working on, for 18 months, Judge, a deal between two countries, Canada and the United States, a provincial government of Ontario, and the State of Michigan; two cities, Windsor and Detroit; and in all of the records and agencies, Coast Guard, Homeland Security, and those same agencies on the other side of the water. Because of the politics that were involved at City Council on our side, there was a rush vote, which got the Windsor City Council and Windsor Mayor, and the lawyers that had been working on this deal for eighteen months, in a flux. That is the last part of a $300 million deficit that the City has been carrying since before me, Your Honor. If I don’t close that deficit, 2,000 jobs are gonna be lost in the city of Detroit. There’s no way I can have recreation programs. There’s no way I can cut grass, fix streets. I have to lay off about 700 police officers, and about 251 firefighters.
Facing that reality, what I’ve been doing for six months is digging in, and trying to get that deal done. I don’t believe that that’s more important than this court proceeding. I don’t believe that I would ever disrespect these proceedings at all.
I respect this process, more than I’ve ever respected any process in my life. And I’m sorry. I did violate the conditions of the bond, because I got a phone call that the Windsor City Council—everything was going off the rail—they were gonna back off the deal. This was a very, very serious issue that stopped me from shutting down the Recreation Department.
It’s been presented that I went over for a couple of hours. The office that I went to, it’s about fifty to 100 feet from the tunnel. I ran in. I made a presentation. And I ran back. And we got the deal back on track. We’re now moving forward to close the deficit.
What I’ve been trying to do, Your Honor, throughout this process, is not lay anybody off. I know there’s a gentleman that came and sat in your courtroom, Your Honor. That gentleman sits outside of my house. They have helicopters fly around my house. And so, I do understand the pressure that you’re going through. I’m on the news every single day. And I think 99.9 percent of the time, when people see me, Your Honor, it’s cool, and collected and calm. I have respect for this court. And I have respect f
or you. But I don’t believe that there’s a person who can sit in this type of scrutiny, this type of pressure, these type of issues where I have to deal, personally, with my wife and children, in my office, to keep the chief of police and the fire commissioner and all the requisite forty-seven agencies working at optimum levels, and have to come here and deal with this issue in court, without having respect for this institution.
My life has been revolutionarily transformed! And it’s transforming in an eye of these media people that don’t know me at all. Your Honor, I’m asking for your forgiveness. It will never happen again. I’ve said that. My lawyers said that at the bond hearing last time.
I can give you the cut plan, and show you what we have to do on September 2, if this doesn’t go through. September 3, I have to shut down Recreation. I have to fire firefighters. I have to fire the police officers, lay off police officers. And, at that particular moment, to get that deal on track, all that was in my mind is, ‘We can’t let the city go right now.’
We have bond rating meetings out in New York in October. And I promised certain things for the last two years. I’ve met each one of those promises. Every single promise that I made to the bondholders I kept. This is the last one. Every deal I said I would close—economic development—I’ve closed. Every labor agreement and changes I’ve gotten. I have a focus on this process, Your Honor. And I don’t disrespect you, or this court, at all. And I’m asking for another chance.
I apologize to the citizens, as well. But, mostly, to you. It was never a front to you. I respect you, and the job that you have to do, and the position that you’re in.
I’d placed my heart in my hand. I spoke as honestly and sincerely as I could. Judge Giles recessed for about ten minutes. During that time, my lawyers told me how well I did. Supporters in the courtroom were in tears. It was a very touching moment for everyone but Giles.
Giles’ response was that I shouldn’t do anything without making arrangements. He said I should have included him and the court in those arrangements. Though he understood the pressure I professed to be under, he had to adhere to the system (now he had to adhere). As he talked, I clasped my hands together, pressing two fingers from each against my mouth. I listened as he took away the drug screening mandate that had been placed on me by another judge at my original bond hearing. He called it meaningless. He then opined that it mattered to him how the court is perceived.
“I have a responsibility to treat every defendant the same,” he said. If “John Six-Pack” went to Canada, he said he would send him to jail. Therefore, he had to treat me like “John Six-Pack.”
“The court is revoking your bond,” Giles said. “The court is gonna order that all travel be suspended, and two, that you be remanded to the Wayne County Jail for processing.”
The press went crazy. Some slapped high fives. It would be determined the next day that this was a gross abuse of judicial discretion and a violation of Michigan law but, for now, I was about to be locked up!
But all is well, I kept thinking. All is well.
I rushed to call my wife, using a cell phone that I borrowed. I talked to her and my sons. They all cried for a moment, and then Jelani took over. He stepped up. His presence of mind, sensibility and spirit still give me a sense of awe today. He grew a lot that day, and I’m eternally thankful to God for what He did for my family at that moment.
I was escorted downstairs, in my three-piece suit, placed in handcuffs, put into a paddy wagon and taken from the courthouse to the Wayne County Jail. Central Booking. I was fingerprinted, had mug shots taken, and then had to remove all of my clothing to put on the inmate uniform. It was a green outfit with “WAYNE COUNTY INMATE” inscribed across the shirt and pants. I was then cuffed again and escorted by three deputies to my cell. All along the long walk to my cell, other inmates shouted out how much they loved me. One said that God was working through me. It actually felt good. As I turned the final corner before I arrived at the place I would be kept for the next twenty-seven hours, a final loud outburst came from the corridor behind me.
“Hey, Kwame!” the voice said. “Just know that all is well!” A calm and comforting feeling came over me. I had no tension, no anxiety, no fear and no anger! I walked into my cell, turned around for the handcuffs to be taken off, and asked the deputy the time. “12:43 p.m.” he responded. And then he slammed the door.
You know that slam that you always hear in the movies? That’s exactly how it sounds, except it’s much louder. I sat down on the hard mattress, looked around my tiny cell and began to think.
My first thought: “I am locked up.” My next thought: “All is well.”
chapter 25
Days of Reckoning
JAIL WAS macabre. And peaceful. It was jail, bottom line. But for one night, I was away from the hype. And then, I was released.
I felt something headed my way after that night, but I wasn’t sure what something was. The world around me reeked of overreaction. I felt like an example in the making, the subject of an operative. I loved representing Detroit, but some hated the fact that I existed. Detroit drives Michigan’s economy, and I never hesitated to stand on that awareness while administering on the City’s behalf. Yet there are Michigan counties far removed from Detroit’s urbane atmosphere whose residents know nothing about the city, live very differently, and assess the city based on its negative image. They don’t respect Detroit or recognize its value to the State of Michigan. So who would like a mayor who forced them to see us? I could see why a chorus of naysayers wouldn’t mind seeing me gone. And I see how my mistakes gave them just enough rope to hang me. The witness stand lie was the rope, and it led to a snowball of stress and scrutiny that formed in me a tornado of anger and exasperation. By the time those sheriff’s deputies made it to my sister’s house, the tornado had consumed me. And now, they had me.
I thought about this heavily during that night in jail, and about how divisive a topic I’d become. I can think of no better example of this than when Senator Barack Obama visited Detroit just days after accepting the Democratic nomination for U.S. President. Obama had once been a supporter, but sent word suggesting that I not attend a rally that would take place at Hart Plaza, literally across the street from my office. He even released a statement that echoed the wind in Detroit, declaring that I should resign from office. Not only had I become that much of a distraction, but the Republicans had a commercial ready to air as soon as I showed up on any stage with the man who would become the forty-forth and first African-American President of the United States.
I was floored and insulted, at first. Some felt that Senator Obama was selling out. The more I thought about it, however, the more I felt that he made a wise decision. I know Barack. He’s a good man, and a cool guy. But he’s also very smart, and he had to remain America’s candidate. Appearing with me in public would be a statement against all the people who opposed me, and many of them supported him. His opportunity was too big to gamble. I gracefully accepted his request, and stayed home. Heavy on my heart, though, was the feeling of true loneliness.
The prosecutor had me where she wanted me. Worthy wanted to put me in jail for up to fifteen years. She intended to drum up enough charges to come after me as if I were a violent, multiple offender. I even heard rumors that she murmured her disgust for me and flatly stated her intent to destroy me. Worthy’s attorneys, while conferencing with mine, acknowledged her dastardly ways and, as we progressively learned more about her intent to destroy, it became clear to me that I could not fight this devil with carnal weapons. I was officially fighting a losing battle. Carlita knew it, too. We talked and prayed together like never before, and we remained open. My family needed to plan for a healthy emergence from this situation, even if it aged us. We were wise to prepare ourselves spiritually because, after considering all things, and then consulting with my lawyers, the best recourse was the one we didn’t like.
I reported to court in early September, with Carlita at my side. My attorneys
had met with Worthy’s team of prosecutors and worked out an agreement. Wearing a bronze sport coat and navy blue slacks, I stood before Judge David Groner, who requested my plea.
“I lied under oath,” I said, “with the intent to mislead the court and jury and to impede and obstruct the fair administration of justice.”
For the record, I lied when I made that statement, as well. The real reason I lied under oath was because I didn’t want my wife to know I cheated. But be clear. There was absolutely no justice to obstruct in the Whistleblower suit. The case was manufactured. I was just cornered. Immediately following those words, I agreed to do the following, under the terms of my agreement:
resign from my post as mayor of the City of Detroit, with an announcement to be made that day;
serve five years probation and 120 days in the Wayne County Jail,
pay a restitution of $1 million, $20,000 of which was to be submitted on the day of my sentencing,
forfeit my State pension against my restitution,
surrender my license to practice law, and
seek no public office for five years.
The plea hearing was broadcast live on network television and streamed across the Internet. Many people told me afterward that I appeared happy… light. I also heard, of course, that some people felt I didn’t take the hearing seriously. Well, after going through a daily hell for the nine previous months, it did feel pretty good to lay down that burden. I suppose some believe a man’s visage should appear beaten when he’s sentenced. I was simply relieved. My wife and I sang songs, laughed and exchanged humorous quips with each other on the way to the court that day. We felt free for the first time in nearly a year. Our yoke was being lifted, so please, excuse me if my smile offended you. But that day, in court, I was getting my praise on.
Surrendered: The Rise, Fall & Revolution of Kwame Kilpatrick Page 22