CHICAGO — The long-awaited racketeering indictment of Michael Madigan runs some 106 pages, but anyone looking for a quote directly from the former House speaker’s mouth will have to wade through more than half the document before finding one.
On May 16, 2018, Madigan called his longtime confidant Michael McClain and told him “go forward with” a plan to have former McPier boss Juan Ochoa appointed to the Commonwealth Edison board of directors, according to the indictment filed Wednesday in U.S. District Court.
That first direct line from Madigan is followed by many others that are equally opaque, with the speaker quoted multiple times saying variations of phrases like “Okay, alright, very good” or using carefully couched language such as, “You were contemplating processing something. You should go ahead and process that.”
In the annals of Chicago political corruption cases, they aren’t exactly Blagojevich-esque moments, such as the infamous recorded call where the then-sitting governor of Illinois said of a U.S. Senate seat appointment that was his to make: “I’ve got this thing and it’s (expletive) golden.”
In fact, much of the language contained in the Madigan indictment seems to confirm what many have long said about Madigan’s careful practice to avoid talking business on cellphones or over email. But federal prosecutors have now committed to taking the case forward, even without what might amount to a verbal smoking gun.
The charges allege that the words that did come from Madigan, coupled with wiretapped conversations, emails and other communications between McClain and others, show the famously shrewd speaker knew exactly what was being orchestrated on his behalf behind the scenes.
Defense attorneys will surely try to argue that the pattern of conduct described in the charges — the exchange of jobs, appointments, the backscratching and political favors — is just the usual way of doing business in Chicago and Illinois politics, and that none of it is illegal.
To win their case, prosecutors will have to prove that it crossed a line, turning Madigan’s elected office and vast political organization into a criminal enterprise.
Dylan Smith, a former federal prosecutors and partner at the firm Freeborn & Peters LLP, said prosecutors may argue from the conversations that there already was an implicit understanding about how things were supposed to work.
“You almost don’t have to even say it out loud,” Smith said.
Madigan did seem much more at ease talking with then-Ald. Daniel Solis face to face, not knowing that Solis was cooperating in the investigation and wearing a secret FBI wire.
In November 2018, for example, Solis met with Madigan to tell him he was planning on retiring but was “still committed to generating additional business” for Madigan’s private law firm, according to the charges. And in what appeared to be an FBI ruse, Solis had also told Madigan he was looking to land a state appointment from Gov.-elect J.B. Pritzker.
After thanking Solis, Madigan asked him point blank, “Do you wanna go forward now on one of those state appointments?” the indictment alleged. He then asked for the alderman’s resume and said, “Because I wanna have a meeting with (Pritzker) the week after next.”
At a news conference announcing the charges last week, U.S. Attorney John Lausch said that while the indictment doesn’t spell out “all the investigative tools” used in the investigation, it did indeed hinge on conversations between Madigan and the alleged planners of the various charged schemes.
“What you do have are words that are used in conversations, you do have words that are used in documents or on emails that are spelled out throughout the indictment, and that’s the core of our evidence in this case,” Lausch said.
Legal experts who spoke to the Tribune — including several who did not want to be quoted because they are loosely involved in the case — said the charges methodically pursued by Lausch’s office over the past several years appeared strong, but perhaps not open and shut, like some people expect.
Aaron Goldstein, one of former Gov. Rod Blagojevich’s attorneys, said prosecutors will have a lot of dots to connect between Madigan’s statements and the votes he took in the General Assembly or other political favors he allegedly granted to enrich himself and his associates.
“I’d be a little hesitant to say it’s a slam dunk, but the defense certainly has its challenges,” said Goldstein, who now heads the civil division for the Cook County public defender.
While Madigan was “certainly more careful” than Blagojevich ever was about talking on the phone, it’s still challenging in any case for defense attorneys to overcome recorded conversations in front of a jury, Goldstein said.
“If you look at the Blagojevich trial, the final verdicts really were guilty on all the charges prosecutors had phone calls for, and not guilty on the others,” Goldstein said.
Goldstein said it’s also going to be a hurdle for the defense that so many potential jurors in Illinois already assume that a powerful politician like Madigan is, by nature, corrupt. If the case goes to trial, Goldstein said Madigan’s best shot might be to own the fact that he was powerful and use it to explain why people had to go through him to get things done.
“Of course people are going to be coming to me,” Goldstein said Madigan might argue. “I’m the speaker of the House. I’m the head of the Democratic Party. I’m the central committeeman. ... Just because I voted one way or or overrode the governor’s veto on something else doesn’t mean it was a quid pro quo.”
That’s a strategy, however, that cuts both ways, Goldstein said.
“It’s very difficult to say it’s politics as usual when a lot of people think it’s Madigan who invented the politics as usual,” he said.
The 22-count indictment returned by a federal grand jury comes after a yearslong federal investigation and alleges Madigan participated in an array of bribery and extortion schemes from 2011 to 2019 aimed at using the power of his office for personal gain.
Also charged was McClain, the speaker’s good friend and former colleague in the General Assembly who went on to a lucrative career as a lobbyist, including for ComEd.
Now that the public has gotten its first look at the case prosecutors have built against Madigan, the real legal wrangling begins this week, when the former speaker is scheduled to be arraigned Wednesday before U.S. Magistrate Judge Jeffrey Cole and a schedule for an exchange of evidence is laid out.
Cole has ordered that the hearing be conducted by telephone, which has been common for the courthouse amid the COVID-19 pandemic.
That means that Madigan, 79, will likely not have to personally appear at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse anytime in the foreseeable future, since judges have been quick to waive defendants’ appearances for routine status hearings and other issues that don’t require their direct participation.
In bringing charges against Madigan, who for years was the most powerful politician in Illinois, the U.S. attorney’s office has reached rarefied air even for a state that has had dozens of governors, state legislators, aldermen and other elected officials go down for public corruption.
Federal prosecutors in Chicago rarely lose a high-profile case, particularly one brought against a powerful elected official, and the case against Madigan involves several crucial witnesses who can fill in gaps left by the recordings.
Among them is Solis, who wore a wire after he was caught in his own wrongdoing and made secret recordings of Madigan allegedly scheming to get business for his private tax reduction law firm from developers who needed political help on a deal involving state-owned land in Chinatown.
Also crucial to the charges is Fidel Marquez, the former vice president of governmental affairs for ComEd, who also recorded conversations for the FBI during the investigation, which in turn helped prosecutors secure a wiretap on McClain’s phone.
Equally important, however, may be two key witnesses who wouldn’t flip: McClain, who’s suffering from prostate cancer and has rebuffed repeated attempts to get him to cooperate; and Tim Mapes, the former chief of staff to Madigan who was charged with perjury last year after allegedly lying to the federal grand jury despite having an immunity agreement with the government.
Mapes has pleaded not guilty and is awaiting trial.
In a statement after the indictment was returned, McClain’s attorney, Patrick Cotter, said McClain was innocent and that the government “for years” has been trying to force him to cooperate in its “quest” to charge Madigan.
“These latest charges are nothing more than the government’s continued attempt to pressure Mike McClain to do the government’s bidding,” the statement read. “He will never testify falsely about himself or anyone, no matter how many indictments are brought against him. We will fight to prove his innocence.”
The pressure on both McClain and Mapes to cooperate will be even more intense now that Madigan has been charged along with them, which changes the equation, according to some longtime criminal defense lawyers who spoke to the Tribune.
Goldstein, who represented Blagojevich, said that even if McClain and Mapes did decide to flip, they wouldn’t necessarily be great witnesses for prosecutors. Defense attorneys would be able to attack their credibility over any deals they struck to save their own skin, he said.
Either way, prosecutors in a case like Madigan’s “always start out having the upper hand,” he said.
“The feds have an infinite amount of resources, even when it’s a powerful defendant like Madigan” who has tens of millions of dollars in campaign funds that are at his disposal to pay legal fees, Goldstein said.
Smith said big political corruption cases tend to come down to a battle of context, with experienced lawyers on both sides trying to convince a jury that their narrative explaining Madigan’s statements and actions makes more sense. Either way, the charges illustrate one of the biggest problems with the way business is conducted in Springfield, Smith said.
“When you have people who are both lobbyists and advisors to politicians, that line gets really blurry,” Smith said.
So would Madigan testify, like Blagojevich famously did?
Goldstein said he’s not holding his breath.
“I’ll bet you a sandwich Madigan never hits the stand,” he said.
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