July 14, 1968

“Now those are headlines,” J.T. exulted, holding up a copy of The New York Times to Balzano and Marty. “The only thing that’d make me happier is a jury saying guilty. By God.” J.T. read the headline again: WRIGHT INDICTS JUDGE TAUBER AND SON FOR PERJURY.

The Governor was in shirt sleeves, sitting comfortably in his private plane headed from Albany to New York City. Dan Mastretta sat on a nearby couch, skimming the morning newspapers for items that would interest the Governor.

“Have you seen the story about Judge Tauber?” Mastretta asked.

“I didn’t read it, but I know about it. I received a telephone call from Chief Judge Borden at eight o’clock this morning. The judge was rather disturbed.”

“About one of his judges getting indicted?” Mastretta asked.

“No, not at all. About the tactics of the special prosecutor. Judge Borden said that it was all well and good that corrupt officials are indicted and tried, but not in the newspapers. Borden also complained that Wright shows as much disrespect for the law as any person who’s been indicted.”

“Isn’t perjury perjury?”

“That’s what I said to Borden. I said, ‘A grand jury heard evidence and indicted, what’s wrong with that?’”

The plane bounced on an air pocket. The Governor felt a queasiness in the pit of his stomach.

“What did he say?”

“He said that he had been a DA for a substantial period of time, in Dewey’s office, and a DA could have a grand jury return an indictment against anyone he wanted it to.”

“Did he say there’s something wrong with the Tauber case?”

“He said that Wright’s methods in general have been so abusive that many of his cases have been thrown out of court. He said that subjecting officials like Judge Tauber to trial in the newspapers before Wright’s dubious indictment is examined is outrageous. He said it’s about time Wright’s romance with the media is curtailed.”

“Wright sure gets a lot of people worked up, doesn’t he?”

“That he does,” said the Governor, looking out the window. They were over Yonkers. “He’s got everyone in the criminal justice system hopping. And that’s exactly what he was supposed to do. But, hell, Dan, he can’t recklessly indict people, using illegal methods.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I asked Judge Borden the same question, and he said he would speak to the administrative judge in Kings County, where Judge Tauber’s case is going to be tried, and ask that this case be handled as expeditiously as possible. Borden felt that the surest way to get to the bottom of what Wright is doing is to let the system work, let the defense lawyers pore over the case, cross-examine the witnesses who testified at the Grand Jury. A trial would get everything out in the open.”

“How long will all of that take?” asked Mastretta.

“Not more than a few months. If Wright’s doing his job right, terrific. But if he isn’t—well, we ought to know that too.”

Mastretta grimaced as the plane hit another wave of turbulence.

Joseph E. Brill was one of the most respected criminal defense lawyers in the city. He was bald—actually shaved what little hair he had left—and wore a Vandyke beard; he was the epitome of a criminal trial lawyer of the old school. Judge Tauber retained Brill to represent him on the indictment.

“What do you think, Joe?” the judge asked, pale as he sat in Brill’s private office.

Brill, his half-glasses low on his angular nose, read the indictment on his desk.

“I think the son of a bitch set you up.” Brill, too, had been a DA in Dewey’s famous office.

Randolph Tauber and his attorney, Peter L. F. Sabbatino, were also in Brill’s office. Sabbatino, too, was one of the city’s best defense lawyers. At seventy-five years of age, he had not forgotten anything. He still knew it all, and then some. Sabbatino and Brill both had their offices in the Woolworth Building, and had known and respected each other for a long time.

“What do you think, Peter?”

“No question about it,” Sabbatino replied in his soft voice.

“How can you both tell that?” asked the judge.

“How else could Wright get a purported defendant to wire himself up and tape conversations with his own lawyer?” said Brill.

“A defendant worrying about his own health and welfare,” added Sabbatino, “would not likely be working with the special prosecutor against his own lawyer, unless he didn’t have any case to worry about in the first place.”

“That’s the way I see it, Peter,” Brill agreed.

“We’ll have to get the tapes and any other material they have,” said Sabbatino. “I wouldn’t even waste time asking Wright’s people if they’ll give it to us. We’ll make formal motions.”

“I want to get this thing brought to trial as quickly as possible,” said the judge. “I’m being pilloried. So is my son, my entire family.”

“They say they have tapes to prove the charges,” said Brill carefully. “We can complain all we want about unfair tactics, set-up and the like, and I do not minimize that for a moment, but lying in front of a grand jury is perjury, no matter how you slice it. Is there anything to these charges?”

“They’re a goddamn lie!” Tauber’s son said vehemently. “They accuse me of concocting a phony defense for Rainone and lying about it before the grand jury. It’s not true. I told this Rainone, or whatever his real name is, that he had a long rap sheet. He couldn’t take the stand with that kind of record. I’m not in either of your leagues, but I know that. So why would I concoct a defense for him to testify to, that the complainant made homosexual advances? I told him he couldn’t even take the stand. If they’ve got tapes, that’s what’ll be on the tapes.”

“Unless they doctor the tapes,” Sabbatino pointed out.

“You think Wright’d go that far?” asked the judge.

“Why not?” replied Brill. “If he’s capable of doing what you say, why couldn’t he doctor tapes too?”

“Jesus Christ,” the judge said, leaning back in his chair.

“I never concocted any phony defense with Rainone,” the judge’s son repeated. “In fact, I told him that I wouldn’t represent him, that he had to get another lawyer, because all he wanted me to do was make a fix for him. I didn’t trust him. All he wanted was a fix, a fix. I told him he was reading too many comic books, and that he’d have to get somebody else.”

“We’ve got to get our hands on those tapes, then, Peter. That’s where the case lies.”

“I already have one of my associates working on the motion papers.”

“It’s going to be great working with you again, Peter,” said Brill. “And don’t worry, judge, we’ll hoist the son of a bitch on his own petard.”

“It’s difficult being a defendant, Joe,” the judge replied wearily. “We sit and watch this sort of thing day in, day out. And then suddenly you’re the defendant, and your stomach takes a different turn, and it turns and it turns. My whole life is in your hands.”

“We’ll do everything possible, judge,” Brill said, looking at Sabbatino. “And then some.”

“What is this Tauber situation all about?” Marty demanded angrily of J.T. They were alone in J.T.’s office. It was after ordinary working hours, although many staff lawyers were in their offices poring over books and papers.

“What do you mean, Marty?” J.T. asked, looking Marty straight in the eye.

“You know what I mean, J.T. How did all this come about without my knowing anything about it? Why did Levine handle it directly with you, and not with me? I am still chief of staff around here, am I not?”

“That doesn’t mean that everything has to go through you, does it?” J.T. replied. He swiveled in his chair to look out at the skyline.

“No. But it just seems odd that you didn’t let me in on any of it, particularly since the Tauber situation is very similar to discussions we’ve had many times about making a phony case to get an official. Is that what this is?”

“Certainly not, Otto,” J.T. said, trying to stir up some of the old joviality. He didn’t turn to face Marty.

“You’re not convincing me, J.T.,” Marty said sternly. “I smell something wrong in this case—especially where Levine handled it. He’s a very dangerous little man.”

“He’s all right. A little ambitious, perhaps. But aren’t we all?”

“Not all, J.T. Have you read the grand jury minutes in the Tauber case yet? Have you seen the evidence?”

“No, have you?” J.T. said anxiously, turning to face Marty.

“Not yet. But I’m going to take the file home with me this evening.”

“I was thinking of doing the same thing myself. Perhaps you can take it tomorrow night?”

“I already have the file with me.” Marty indicated a file on the couch next to him.

“Let me have it, will you?” J.T. tried to say casually.

“No problem, J.T. I’ll just photostat it. This way we’ll both be able to discuss the file tomorrow.”

“I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

“Is there something in there you don’t want me to see? Ordinarily you don’t even bother to look in the files. What’s the difference with this one?”

“No difference.”

“Good. Then there’ll be no problem if I photostat it.”

J.T.’s jaw muscles set hard as he looked at the folder in Marty’s hand. “I’d rather you didn’t do that, Marty,” he said firmly, “until I look it over myself. If Levine did something wrong, I want to know about it first. Particularly because, as you say, he was working directly with me.”

“Here’s the file,” said Marty, handing the folder to J.T. “But if you don’t have sufficient confidence in me to let me photostat the file and study it at the same time you do, then you can take this job and my title and shove them you know where.” Marty’s fists were clenched tightly.

“Take it easy, Marty, take it easy. What’s come over you?” J.T. asked, smiling now, coming out from behind his desk. “Hell, Marty, it’s only a file.”

“And from the way you’re acting, I know just what to expect in it.”

“I think you’re wrong. Unless Levine did something I don’t know about.”

“I see. If there’s anything unethical or illegal in there, you’ll lay it off on Levine.”

“That’s not what I mean at all. As far as I know, there’s nothing amiss in the Tauber file.”

“I’ll find that out for myself. Unless, of course, you tell me right now that you don’t want me to look at this file at all.”

J.T. studied Marty carefully. He was in dead earnest, and looked angrier than J.T. had ever seen him. “I guess you can look at it, if it’s that important. Take it.”

“Fine. I hope you’re right about what’s in here, J.T.”

J.T. looked at Marty, his face betraying nothing.