Here is the latest installment of my column for the Alaska Bar Rag, the official publication of the Last Frontier's lawyers. It is one of a series of pieces on the Ted Stevens case.
The Substance and Thinking
Involved in the Ted Stevens Indictment
by Cliff Groh
The
last Bar Rag column described how the
Department of Justice ended up not charging U.S. Sen. Ted Stevens with the
offenses of bribery, honest-services fraud, receipt of illegal gratuities, and
conversion of government services prosecutors considered during a probe that
ran at least 33 months.
This installment
in a multi-part series on the Ted Stevens case looks at the counts of failure
to disclose gifts and/or liabilities that did appear in the indictment
handed down on July 29, 2008. This
piece also includes an examination of some of the other factors involved in the
indictment.
Charges: Items, Dollars, and Years
Recall that the
indictment charged seven felony counts of failing to report gifts and/or
liabilities on disclosure forms required annually from each U.S. Senator. The
prosecution alleged that Ted Stevens failed to report such colorful gifts as a
massage chair from Girdwood restaurant owner Bob Persons, a blue-eyed puppy and
a stained-glass window from Alaska real estate developer Bob Penney, and a
bronze salmon statue from the Kenai River Sportfishing Association. That first gift—a vibrating lounger that
stayed in Stevens’ home in Washington, D.C. for seven years while Stevens said
he thought it was a loan—left a lasting image that hurt the defendant at
trial.
Yet the great bulk
of the unreported gifts and/or liabilities contained in the government’s case
came from the oil-services giant VECO and its long-time CEO Bill Allen in the
form of renovation work, repair, and improvements at the Senator’s Girdwood
home. The indictment alleged that over
a period of more than six years Stevens failed to report more than $250,000 in
free labor, materials, and other things of value provided by VECO and/or Allen
at the Girdwood residence. Items on the
government’s list of “freebies” included
hardwood floors, work on one deck and all the work on another deck, a roof over
the second deck, a professional gas grill, a Jacuzzi, and other furniture. The indictment included one more benefit
going from Allen to Ted Stevens that was unrelated to the Girdwood residence, a
car trade in which one of the Senator’s children allegedly ended up with a
vehicle substantially more valuable than the vehicle the Senator put up as his
part of the trade.
The benefits from
VECO and/or Allen were loaded into the early years of the period covered by the
indictment handed down on July 29, 2008.
The charging document stated that approximately $200,000 of those things
of value came in the period between the summer of 2000 and the end of 2001 and
that another approximately $55,000 worth of benefits came in 2002.
Six counts in the
indictment covered the annual reports filed for the six calendar years 2001
through 2006, and alleged that Stevens had violated a federal statute (18
U.S.C. Subsec. 1001(a)(2)) criminalizing the making of “any materially false,
fictitious, or fraudulent statement or representation.” A seventh count alleged a scheme by Stevens
running from calendar year 1999 through calendar year 2006 to conceal his
receipt of things of value from Allen and VECO. That seventh count alleged that the Senator
had violated 18 U.S.C. Subsec. 1001(a)(1), which targets one “who falsifies,
conceals, or covers up by any trick, scheme, or device a material fact.”
Limiting Elements of the Offenses Charged
This statute has
two critical limiting features: a
required mental state and a restriction on the statements covered.
The mental state on
the counts differed. In the six counts
for individual years it was “knowingly and willfully,” and the mental state in
the count for the alleged multi-year scheme was “knowingly and
intentionally.”
Except for listed
exceptions, the statute covers statements “in any matter within the
jurisdiction of the executive, legislative, or judicial branch of the
Government of the United States.”
Importantly for lawyers, one of those exceptions is that the statute
does not apply to a party to a judicial proceeding or that party’s counsel “for
statements, representations, writings or documents submitted by such party or
counsel to a judge or magistrate in that proceeding.” More importantly for this case, as to any
matter within the jurisdiction of the legislative branch, the statute applies
only in a limited set of circumstances, including “a document required by law,
rule, or regulation to be submitted to the Congress or any office or officer
within the legislative branch.”
The Source of the Requirement to
Disclose: The Ethics in Government Act
The indictment
alleged that the relevant false statements by Ted Stevens appeared in annual
disclosure forms required by the Ethics in Government Act of 1978 (5 U.S.C.
App. 4 Secs. 101-111). That Act requires
various federal officials, including Members of Congress, to file annual
disclosure statements detailing, with certain exceptions, their income, gifts,
assets, financial liabilities, and securities and commercial real estate
transactions. This statute was a child of the reforms adopted after the
Watergate scandals (as was the Public Integrity Section that spearheaded the
prosecution of Ted Stevens).
Particularly because of its restrictions on outside income for Members
of Congress, the legislation was highly controversial on Capitol Hill when
adopted—one Member of the House told the New
Yorker that the bill was so unpopular that the legislation would have
failed 2-1 if put to a secret ballot.
As a statute, the Ethics in
Government Act was not a favorite of prosecutors, either. In conjunction with the statute criminalizing
some false statements, the adoption of the Ethics in Government Act made it
possible to prosecute public officials for false statements on their disclosure
forms, but such prosecutions were not common.
According to James B. Stewart’s 1987 book The Prosecutors, the Justice Department had adopted an informal
policy that disfavored prosecution for disclosure violations “except in the
most egregious cases.”
The subjective
state of mind required by the statute was the practical problem prosecutors often
found with charging public officials with the crime of failing to disclose
gifts, loans, and income. Prosecutors
were worried that juries would be sympathetic to a defendant claiming he or she
just forgot the matters that did not appear on the disclosure forms. As Stewart reported in 1987, prosecutors
evaluating charges against a number of federal officials—including Attorney
General nominee Edwin Meese—ended up declining to prosecute on disclosure
violations based on fears of inability to approve the required criminal intent
to conceal. And it was of course the
mental element that turned out to be where all the action was in the Ted
Stevens case.
Shorn of any
charges of bribery or honest-services fraud, the
indictment against Ted Stevens
seemed to many observers to contain only technical violations. Alaska historian John Strohmeyer branded
them “pussycat charges,” and Fairbanks newspaper columnist Dermot Cole
suggested after the trial that all the government had proved was that Stevens “may have
failed to fill out the paperwork correctly to report such gifts as a gas grill,
massage chair, sled dog and ugly artwork.”
With Bill Allen
pleading guilty to bribing Ted Stevens’ son Ben—and given the very close
personal relationship between Bill Allen and Ted Stevens over a number of years—the
federal investigators and prosecutors on the Polar Pen probe would
disagree. Although they would never say
it this way publicly, it seemed like some of those prosecutors and
investigators pursuing Ted Stevens saw the charges of failure to disclose as
equivalent to the charges of income tax evasion that brought down notorious
mobster Al Capone.
The indictment had
some distinctive touches, including a number of official acts that Ted Stevens
took to benefit VECO. Prosecutors could
have inserted the list to offer a motive for why Stevens wanted to hide his
receipt of benefits. The list also
seemed to be a residue of the years the Justice Department spent investigating
Stevens for crimes with a quid pro quo
element, almost like spots left on a dish after a hasty handwashing.
One of those listed
official acts reads particularly odd to Alaska eyes. The indictment’s
statement that Ted Stevens “received and accepted solicitations…from Allen and
other VECO employees” for “assistance on both federal and state issues in
connection with the effort to construct a natural gas pipeline from Alaska’s
North Slope Region” betrayed a certain cluelessness about political realities
in the Great Land. Everybody with the
slightest understanding of how things work on the Last Frontier knows that Ted
Stevens would have strongly supported the gasline if Bill Allen had never been
born and VECO had never existed.
Some Additional Factors in the Indictment
The Justice Department’s
motivations for bringing the charges against Ted Stevens triggered much
discussion in Alaska and on Capitol Hill, both because of the big political
impacts of the case and because decisions on white-collar crime cases involve
more prosecutorial discretion than do blue-collar crime cases.
It was the Justice Department in
the administration of President George W. Bush that brought the charges against
the longest-serving Republican Senator ever.
When the case melted down due to revelations of prosecutorial
misconduct, however, some commentators pointed to the Democratic leanings of
some of the government’s attorneys to account for the Justice Department’s
handling of the case. The evidence
suggests that any accusation of Democratic partisanship is a bum rap as an
explanation for either the indictment or the discovery violations. Two of the biggest players—Public Integrity
Section Trial Attorney Nicholas Marsh and Public Integrity Section Chief William
Welch—were Democrats, but this shouldn’t matter and did not seem to matter in
this case.
A more relevant factor in the
decision to indict Ted Stevens was a lack of focus and management by the
Justice Department throughout the process.
As one experienced Alaska lawyer observed, the Public Integrity Section
and the higher-ups in Washington never seemed to understand what they had in
the “Polar Pen” prosecution, treating Alaska as a backwater even after a Congressional
powerhouse became a target. The best
way to see this is to contrast the Justice Department’s handling of the Ted
Stevens case with how federal prosecutors dealt in the 1990s with another
powerful politician, U.S. Rep. Dan Rostenkowski, D.-Ill.
There were a number of
similarities between the cases of the two Capitol Hill titans. Each served in Congress for more than 35
years and ended up as legends at home.
Both were long-time chairmen of critical Congressional
committees—Rostenkowski helmed the tax-writing House Ways and Ways Committee,
while Stevens had served for years at the top of Senate Appropriations. Each had their lengthy careers ended by
charges arising out of investigations that initially did not target them (the
probe of Rostenkowski was an outgrowth of an examination of irregularities in
the House post office system, and he ultimately pleaded guilty to two counts of
mail fraud and served 15 months in custody).
Each faced charges brought by the executive branch under the control of
the same party as that of the defendant (Rostenkowski was indicted in May of
1994 during the Clinton administration).
There were key differences as
well between the Rostenkowski and Stevens cases. The Rostenkowski case was brought by the
Washington, D.C. U.S. Attorney's Office, while that office was excluded from
the Stevens case. Rostenkowski was
charged with an unexpectedly wide-ranging 17-count indictment that covered
fraud and embezzlement, conversion of public funds to private use,
witness-tampering, concealing a material fact from Congress, wire fraud, and
aiding and abetting a crime.
Prosecutors charged Stevens, on the other hand, with an unexpectedly
narrow set of counts alleging failure to disclose his receipt of gifts and/or
his liability for debts.
Most importantly, prosecutors
substantially experienced in high-profile public corruption cases seemed to pay
more attention to the Rostenkowski case for a longer period of time than the
Stevens case. As detailed in the New York Times, Eric Holder took over as
U.S. Attorney for Washington, D.C. after the investigation into Rostenkowski
had run on for a number of months.
Holder had previously prosecuted a Congressman in an Abscam public
corruption case. The new U.S. Attorney
quickly instructed the chief of the office’s public corruption section—a
prosecutor who had successfully brought cases against a governor and a federal
judge—to drop or re-assign other matters and work full-time on the Rostenkowski
case, and the indictment came approximately seven months later.
Contrast that intensive focus of
attorneys with extensive experience in high-level public corruption cases with that
of the lawyers most actively involved in the Ted Stevens case before the
indictment. The smart and hard-working
Marsh had only been a prosecutor for about a year when he started working on
the Polar Pen probe, and he had no previous experience being in charge
day-to-day of a high-profile public corruption case. Assistant U.S. Attorney Joseph Bottini was
a highly experienced federal prosecutor with a strong reputation for straight
shooting, but had no experience in a case like the one against Ted Stevens.
Next installment:
The indictment’s curious timing and the false choice it represented