Corrupt political boss or defender of his constituents? Madigan trial begins in earnest

Former House Speaker Michael Madigan may have spent decades at the pinnacle of Illinois politics, but at his core he was simply a soft-spoken, nonconfrontational Southwest Side guy trying to advance his party’s blue-collar agenda, Madigan’s lawyer told a federal jury Monday.

It’s been five years since Madigan, the nation’s longest-serving legislative leader and the kingpin of the state’s Democrats, landed in the crosshairs of a sprawling federal corruption investigation. On Monday, as opening statements in Madigan’s historic trial got underway, his defense team finally began laying out its case.

Decrying the government’s cooperating witnesses as liars with an “axe to grind” who were operating without the speaker’s knowledge or authorization, attorney Tom Breen urged jurors to focus on what Madigan’s intentions were, “not what somebody else says” on some 200 wiretapped audio and video recordings that will dominate the 11-week trial.

What they’ll find, Breen said, is a man trying to provide jobs and opportunities for his constituents following in the footsteps of his father, a 13th Ward superintendent.

“What you will see is that his intention, like his daddy taught him, was to protect the Democratic agenda. The working stiff,” Breen said. He said that while others may have been scheming behind Madigan’s back, “He doesn’t act that way.”

“He has never made a demand on anybody,” Breen said, at one point slapping the lectern for effect. “If someone says he did, that’s bull. That’s just bull.”

Prosecutors, not surprisingly, painted a much different picture, telling the jury Madigan ruthlessly used his perch at the very top of state politics to betray the public trust, increase his power, enrich his friends and line his own pockets.

“Madigan abused his power and used the organization he led to engage in a pattern of corrupt conduct over and over and over again,” Assistant U.S. Attorney Sarah Streicker told jurors in her two-hour opening statement.

Alongside Madigan, Streicker said, was his longtime ally and now co-defendant Michael McClain, who “shielded Madigan, disguising Madigan’s involvement in corrupt activity.”

“Together the defendants engaged in a campaign of bribery,” she said. “A campaign of bribery through which they seized opportunities to leverage Madigan’s immense power in Illinois government to seek and accept bribes from people who needed something from the government. … This racket went on for years.”

Madigan, 82, who served for decades as speaker of the Illinois House and the head of the state Democratic Party, faces racketeering charges alleging he ran his state and political operations like a criminal enterprise, scheming with utility giants ComEd and AT&T to put his cronies on contracts requiring little or no work and using his public position to drum up business for his private law firm.

Both Madigan and McClain, 77, a former ComEd lobbyist, have pleaded not guilty and denied wrongdoing. McClain’s attorneys are expected to present their opening statement Tuesday morning.

Madigan had several supporters in the front row of the courtroom gallery, including his wife, Shirley, and his daughter Lisa, who is the former attorney general of Illinois.

To the Madigan family’s left sat McClain’s wife, Cinda, who was present for much of jury selection.

Madigan sat at the head of his defense table in a gray suit and tie, keeping his legs crossed through much of the three hours of arguments and staring straight ahead at the jury box with a slight squint. McClain sat behind him at a separate table against the wall. Throughout the two long weeks of jury selection, the longtime allies barely interacted at all.

Streicker described a crooked codependency between Madigan and McClain, in which Madigan used McClain to do the dirtiest work and McClain referred to Madigan as his “real client.”

Madigan demanded loyalty, Streicker said. He did not use a cellphone or email.

“Instead he spoke through a very small inner circle whom he trusted. Most prominent in this inner circle was defendant Michael McClain,” Streicker said, telling jurors McClain was a “self-described soldier” for Madigan.

Madigan trusted McClain for handling sensitive matters for him, Streicker said. When Madigan didn’t want his fingerprints on something, he gave it to McClain, she said, and witnesses will testify that when McClain asked for certain things, they knew the ask was coming from Madigan.

Early on in her opening, Streicker put up a slide on monitors in the courtroom that read “THE ENTERPRISE.” Listed as elements of the enterprise were Madigan, McClain, the Office of the Speaker, the 13th Ward and Madigan’s law firm, Madigan & Getzendanner.

She also showed the jurors photos of the cast of characters they’re expected to hear about during the trial who allegedly raked in more than $1.3 million in do-nothing contracts from ComEd over the course of the scheme.

Among them: legendary 13th Ward precinct captains Ed Moody and Ray Nice, former 13th Ward Ald. Frank Olivo and 23rd Ward Ald. Michael Zalewski, and ex-state Rep. Eddie Acevedo, a Chicago Democrat who served on Madigan’s leadership team.

“They were not real subcontractors, and they were not paid in return for real work,” Streicker said. “… They were paid to benefit Madigan.”

Streicker told the jury Madigan and McClain got a lengthy “stream of benefits” from the utility in exchange for Madigan’s support of legislation that ComEd desperately needed.

The day before a bill favorable to ComEd was passed, the utility hired Reyes Kurson, a Madigan-favorite law firm run by Democratic political operative Victor Reyes, to do legal work for them. Later on, as a different ComEd-related bill was pending, the utility’s chief legislative officer wanted to reduce Reyes Kurson’s hours, Streicker said.

But then McClain told the ComEd CEO that they “could not risk provoking a reaction from Madigan” by failing to renew the Reyes Kurson contract, Streicker said.

ComEd also set aside 10 coveted internships for residents of Madigan’s 13th Ward, and Madigan successfully asked ComEd to put Juan Ochoa, an ally of recently retired U.S. Rep. Luis Gutierrez, on its board in an attempt to score points with a congressman who had ties to Ochoa, according to prosecutors.

Madigan, McClain and AT&T were involved in a strikingly similar scheme, prosecutors said.

AT&T had tried for years to get the legislature to pass a bill that would relieve the company from having to provide landlines to anyone anywhere in the state, Streicker said.

In 2017, they reintroduced a bill, and Madigan soon afterward agreed to meet, Streicker said. The same day AT&T found out Madigan wanted a meeting, the company got an email from McClain asking for a “small contract” for ex-Rep. Eddie Acevedo.

“When McClain asked them to hire Acevedo, they did,” Streicker said. “Not because they wanted to hire him, but because they wanted to influence Madigan’s actions.”

Streicker also outlined a series of schemes involving former Chicago Ald. Daniel Solis, the powerful head of the Zoning Committee, whose stunning turn as an FBI mole helped the feds build a case against Madigan as well as then-Ald. Edward Burke.

In exchange for cooperation, which included making audio and video recordings of meetings and conversations with Madigan, Solis was given an unprecedented deal: Bribery charges against him will be dropped when his cooperation is deemed truthful and complete.

In one alleged scheme, Streicker said Madigan pushed the governor’s office to place Solis on a six-figure state board position in exchange for the alderman’s help in landing legal business. She showed jurors a copy of a note on Madigan’s law firm stationery that signaled Solis would be interested in sitting on a state labor relations board or on the Illinois Commerce Commission.

Madigan’s moves demonstrated how he operated in a “transactional” way, Streicker said. “When Madigan saw an opportunity to enrich himself, he took it,” she said.

In another episode, Streicker said, Madigan specifically requested Solis to help connect the longtime speaker with Harry Skydell, the New York-based developer of the sprawling Old Post Office.

In 2017, Madigan prepared to “exploit Solis’ power” over a proposed project called Union West in the West Loop, Streicker said. With the project being considered in the City Council where Solis oversaw zoning matters, Solis let Madigan know that the developer understood there was a “quid pro quo” that Madigan’s law firm should get the property tax business, Streicker said.

Later, Madigan was recorded using “whisper tones” to give a “false explanation” to Solis and told him to steer clear of using the phrase “quid pro quo,” Streicker said.

Breen countered by playing the exchange that was captured on a shaky video recording Solis made of Madigan explaining that Solis should not use the term “quid pro quo” because what Madigan’s property tax appeals firm is offering high-quality work.

Breen also called Solis a “braggart and a BS-er” who had a “decrepit personal and professional life.” He told the jury Solis was given a script by the FBI and anything he said should be treated with suspicion.

Breen scoffed at prosecutors’ description of Madigan’s 13th Ward political organization as part of an enterprise. “To Michael Madigan it’s a neighborhood, it’s a community, it’s churches, it’s school, it’s playgrounds, it’s friends, it’s family,” he said.

The defense sought to poke holes in the image of Madigan as a central, plotting force. Far from being the master of insidious wheeling and dealing, Breen said, Madigan was simply a hardworking FDR-style Democrat whose upbringing in the wake of the Depression reinforced his “insatiable appetite to help people.”

“(Madigan was) always concerned about employment benefits, he was concerned about workers, concerned about unions, that was what drove him,” Breen said. “… And to say he became speaker because he wanted the power of it, you don’t even understand him.”

jmeisner@chicagotribune.com
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