Here's what's up at the Rezko trial, gov
Memo
To: Blago
From: Carol in court
Re: Rezko on trial
Because you've made it clear you have too much governing to do to pay attention to the federal corruption trial of Antoin "Tony" Rezko, your close friend and prodigious political fund-raiser, I thought I'd give you a thumbnail of what that first day on Thursday was like.
Packed.
Long lines at the Dirksen Federal Building. Loads of reporters. Lots of spectators. The U.S. marshals handed out little laminated green tickets just to get into Judge Amy St. Eve's courtroom on the 12th floor. And opened a larger, overflow courtroom on the 17th with a huge video screen to watch the action. It was jammed, too.
Body language at the opening arguments was a study in contrasts.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Carrie Hamilton did the honors for the government. A blond, slender, composed young woman, she methodically and clearly boiled this case down to its simplest terms. Without drama or flourishes, Ms. Hamilton carefully explained how Rezko, in concert with a pinstriped, corrupt Wilmette lawyer named Stuart Levine, set out to loot the state's teacher retirement fund and extort kickbacks from firms trying to build hospitals in Illinois.
Levine is now a government witness, singing his little heart out so he will have to serve only five years in federal prison instead of 15.
Defense attorney Joe Duffy was next.
Unlike Ms. Hamilton's buttoned-down approach, the tall and rangy Duffy is given to a little more elaborate oratory. With sweeping hand gestures he moved around the courtroom and roundly attacked Levine as a drug-soaked con man and sleazebag.
Warmly extolling the achievements of his Syrian-born client whose pursuit of the American Dream included a fast-food and real estate empire, Duffy pointed out Rezko's family to the jury.
Rezko's wife, Rita, two sons and daughter sat attentively in the second row. They are an extremely attractive and, it appears, supportive family.
Governor, this must be a heartache for you. You know this family well.
Your friend, Tony, was hard to read. Dressed in a gray suit with a subtle pinstripe, crisp white shirt, he carried himself with a distinct formality. Gravity may be the word I'm searching for.
This, after all, is a grave matter.
Enough to give heartburn to a number of marquee politicians, not the least of whom, Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois, is running hard for president right now. Rezko was his friend and fund-raiser, too. And Obama, like you, just hates to answer questions about him.
But Obama has no real connection to this case. You do.
And Thursday your name was all over the place.
There were descriptions of Rezko, private-guy-not-public-official, interviewing people in your administration for jobs. Recommending people for boards. Sitting in on meetings.
Now that's crazy big clout.
And then there was the revelation about the cash. No one, not even reporters who have trolled through your campaign disclosure documents, knew that Rezko had raised not half a million as he once told the Tribune but a whopping million and half for you from 2001 to 2004.
Mr. Duffy says Tony Rezko is guilty of nothing. And that he asked for nothing in return for his fund-raising prowess. The jury will decide that.
In the meantime, I know you're out doing the people's business, too busy to keep track of this trial as you try to sort out that mess over the million dollars that went to the woman you pardoned to build a school that never opened in a building connected to a mole in the Rezko case.
That Tony Rezko. Even when you try, you just can't get away from him.